The Legionnaire
by Pojko
Summary: When misfortune falls on his family, Ronicus is forced to join the Roman legions in the invasion of Britannia.But he is about to discover that there is more waiting for him on this island than he ever expected. Don't expect this to come back anytime soon.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: Okay, I'm trying something new here. Since I'm a history major and the Roman Empire is something I find totally fascinating, I figured why not try to combine it with KP! I've seen it done before in a couple of Mr. Wizard's fics, so now I'm going to give it a shot.

Anyway, this is way different from my normal stuff, and I'm hoping it will go over well with all of you ladies and gentlemen. So your feedback is greatly appreciated more now than ever. I kind of need to know if this story will be worth continuing, or if it's just another plot bunny gone bad. And to all of you who are following The New Kid, don't worry, this won't interfere with any upcoming updates for that story.

Disclaimer: I may not own Kim Possible, but no one owns Rome!

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The Marian reforms had indeed been kind to the common people of Rome.

Ronicus was not a wealthy man by any stretch of the imagination. At one time he had been however. Originally he hailed from the Roman province of Judea, where his father was a successful silk merchant. Seeking greater fortune and greener pastures, they travelled to the city of Rome to start up business there. However things had not gone as planned.

Rome may have been a commercial hub for the Mediterranean world with people from all over the world, but that did not mean they had to be accepting. This was just the case with Ronicus' father. Both the Patricians and Plebians had snubbed his father's silk business, and they had soon become bankrupt. They didn't even have enough money to travel back to Judea where they had been successful. Soon their land had been taken from them, leaving them with nothing but the clothes on their backs. That was when Ronicus learned of the Marian reforms.

Originally to join the mighty Roman army, your family had to own land that was worth three thousand sestertius', or small silver coins, in value. They also had to be a member of the fifth census class or higher. Ronicus did not meet these requirements. But thanks to the Marian reforms, these rules were done away with. Now any man strong enough to fight was able to join the Roman legions. And this is just what Ronicus did.

What greater prospect could an eighteen year old living in Rome have? He was going to see the world. He was going to be a part of something greater than himself. He had the chance to not only get fame and fortune for himself, but also for his once proud family. There was no greater currency in Rome than military victory, and if he could rise the ranks and become an officer, he would indeed do his family proud.

However, Ronicus had never been in combat. He had never even been in a fight before. This was the case with many of the new recruits who wanted to join the legions. Someone had to get them all into shape. And that someone just happened to be a centurion by the name of Barkinian.

Barkinian was a professional soldier who had been serving in the legions since the age of sixteen. Twenty five years later he had risen to the rank of centurion, and had decided to stay there. The money was very good and quite frankly, he was very good at what he did. If killing were an art, than this man would be a master sculptor.

"Alright listen up men, and I use that term loosely." The gruff man said. "I don't know why I was given this job, but as a loyal servant of Gaius Julius Caesar and the Republic, I am forced to do so. It is my task to whip you bunch of pathetic, good for nothing pieces of barbarian crap into shape. And one way or another, we will get this done. Now then put your gear on and begin your five mile march."

Many of the legionnaire prospects groaned at the sound of this, none louder than that of Ronicus. He began to put on his full battle gear in preparation for the march. This consisted of scale mail armor, a large rectangular shield, an iron helmet, gladius, two pila, or small javelins, fifteen days worth of rations, and a tool for entrenchment digging. In total the gear weighed about sixty pounds. Ronicus had little idea of what he was getting into at the time he signed up for the military, but now he was starting to regret it.

"Aw man, this tanks." Were the words that came to mind as he stood next to his best friend of many years, Felix.

Felix, like Ronicus, had joined the military due to the financial state of his family. The opportunities to earn money in the legions were amongst the best in the empire. Each legionnaire had a steady pay each month, and the riches one could get from looting and slaves were far greater than that of even the most successful merchants in Rome. This is why the army was so popular to join, and why Rome had a nearly inexhaustible source of manpower to call upon when it went to war.

"Shh Ronicus!" Felix said quietly. "Don't let Barkinian hear you. I'm sure you don't want him to double your marching distance again, do you?"

Ronicus remembered it well. He had only asked a simple question, but apparently that was enough to set off the bitter old centurion. Barkinian had called it the dumbest single question he had ever heard in his twenty five years serving in the legions. As a result Ronicus had been forced to march ten miles with full battle gear on. By the time he was done he nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

"Yeah yeah I know." The blonde-haired legionnaire said to his friend. "But still, how many times are they going to march us? As if I don't know how to walk already."

"I know, but imagine how much walking we're going to be doing once we start seeing some combat." Felix replied. "They can march us from Britannia to Jerusalem, because that's how much land the VIII Legion is going to conquer!"

"Yeah!" Ronicus shouted with pride. "Well except for the fact we're going to need some boats to cross the channel from Britannia to Judea."

Right now the VIII Legion was stationed in Gaul as it underwent it's training to prepare the soldiers for war. But soon, they would be crossing the great channel from Gaul to Britannia in Caesar's second expedition to the island.

The two young men were now marching along with the rest of their century, under the stern eye of centurion Barkinian. Eighty men strong, the century was the smallest formation of the legion. Six centuries made up a cohort, and ten cohorts made up a legion. All in all Ronicus and Felix were but two specks in the mighty Roman war machine. But despite the fact that they were only two individuals, they carried with themselves a great amount of pride and self-confidence. It came with putting on the battle armor. To be a Roman legionnaire was to be one of the greatest warriors in all the world. They ruled an empire from Iberia to Syria. From North Africa to Germania. Individuals of this military had a lot to be proud of, and Ronicus and Felix were determined to not let their family, or their country down.

"So did you hear that we're going to be heading off to Britannia in only a couple of months?" Felix asked.

Ronicus was shocked to hear that. They had only been there for about a week so far. Was two months really enough time to train a soldier who had never fought before to suddenly start killing people for a living?

"No way man!" Ron said with surprise.

"It's true. Pretty soon our legion is going to kick some barbarian butt!" He said with glee. "Not to mention meeting some of those hot barbarian women."

"Hah!" Ronicus laughed. "As if those hairy things they call women are hot. Sorry, but I'd rather have a nice looking girl from Italia, not some primitive Briton."

"Come on dude. You know I hear those girls actually fight in battle too."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. You wouldn't believe it. The daughters of the nobles in Briton ride in chariots sometimes, shrieking at the tops of their lungs. You're too in awe of them to actually raise your shield, and that's when they get you with a spear through the heart."

"You know I've never had a woman break my heart before, but I would prefer for it not to be like that."

"You said it Ronicus."

The two men continued their march for what seemed like hours under the hot Gallic sun. But it was only through such harsh training that they could become part of the legions of Rome. Once they had that done, their fun and adventures would truly begin.

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The Briton camp was bustling with activity in the early hours of the morning. Birds chirped, and leaves blew in the wind, but none of this could be heard. They were preparing for war now.

Their scouts had reported seeing Roman ships off in the distance. They had been here once before only a year earlier. It was only thanks for a fortuitous storm that had damaged the Roman navy that had kept them from landing in strength on the island. But now they were back. And it was up to the people of the Cenimagni tribe to defeat them.

Kimila held her spear aloft as she stood upon the rocky cliffs that oversaw the great channel. Below in the distance she could see a mighty fleet that had set sail from Gaul. On it were no doubt thousands of soldiers from the Roman empire, intent on conquering them once and for all. But Kimila would not let that happen. She was a daughter of noble birth, the daughter of the king of the Cenimagni's, Jaimus. It was her duty, as well as her honor, to be one of the warriors who would meet the Romans at the beaches and force them back to their ships.

"How many do you see Kimila?" A voice asked from behind her.

Kimila turned around to see her long time friend and rival Bonica. The two had grown up together, both being the daughters of noble families. In Britannia, women were seen as equals to men in many respects, and thus the two of them were not confined to homes doing things such as cooking and weaving. No, these women were warriors, just as fierce and battle-worthy as the men of their tribe.

"Lots." Was Kimila's simple reply.

Bonica walked over beside Kimila and saw for herself the number of ships that were approaching the shoreline of their island home. There were too many to count.

"Do you think we can take them?"

Kimila smirked as she turned her head to face Bonica.

"I don't know about you, but I can do anything, remember?"

Bonica did indeed remember that Kimila could do anything. During one of the hunts she had single handedly slain a bear with her throwing spear, piercing the great brown beast straight through it's neck. Ever since then she has been regarded as one of the finest hunters in the tribe. Though she had never seen combat, it was almost a certainty that she would thrive there as well.

"Let them come." Kimila said confidently. "We will kill so many of them that there won't be any left to run home crying to their senate."

Hearing this filled Bonica too with self assurance. Surely if the great Kimila was unafraid than she had no reason to fear either.

"You're right. We have nothing to fear no matter how many of them land on the beaches. We will drive them back into the sea."

"That's the spirit." Kimila smiled at her friend.

Suddenly both women tensed up as they sensed someone come up from behind them. It was none other than Sheko, the pale daughter of one of the king's chieftains. For many years now she and Kimila had not gotten along well. On more than one occasion the two had traded blows in duels of honor with Kimila winning nearly all of them. This had not settled well with Sheko.

"So princess, what are we looking at?" She asked.

"Romans." Kimila said through gritted teeth. She hated being called 'princess'.

"I see."

"Well did you come here to bug us, or do you actually have something important to say?"

Sheko narrowed her eyes at her enemy and let out a growl as she spoke.

"Yes actually. King Jaimus has requested that you come back to the camp in preparation for battle." She replied. "Such a little daddy's girl…" She then muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing. Just hurry on back… princess." Sheko smiled.

With that the pale woman turned and walked off heading back towards the camp. Silently she cursed for Bonica being there. She could have done something. Thrown that worthless little Kimila off the cliff. But no, there just had to be a witness there. And she couldn't very well explain the sudden disappearance of two of the noble's daughters. Some day though, perhaps sooner than they all realized, she would have her revenge on Kimila. The Romans presented an interesting opportunity to her and one of the chieftains, Drakkarius.

The only question was, would they be able to seize the day when the time came?


	2. Chapter 2

Authors Note: Thanks to RSfan, CajunBear73, Fit as a Chimp, and Muzzlehatch for reviewing the story and inspiring me to continue it. It means a lot to me that you guys read and care about this story.

Also, thanks to my friend and beta reader Brandon for checking out this chapter before I posted it.

Disclaimer: Ego operor non own Kim Possible. It's a pretty bad Latin translation I know, but I'm trying!

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They had left from Portus Itius what seemed like hours ago. Around eight hundred ships total had set sail for Britannia. These ships carried not only five legions of the Roman Republic, but also traders and local Gauls hoping to cash in on trading opportunities. These ships were much better suited for crossing the great channel than the ones he had used the previous year, which had been ideal for the calm waters of the Mediterranean Sea, but not the harsh waters between Britannia and Gaul.

For his part, Ronicus was beginning to get sick. It was not only the waters, but it was also nerves. Before the day was over, he would most likely kill another man. Sure he had been trained and hardened for this over the past two months, but it was still a grim prospect. To take your blade and to shove it into the gut of another man wasn't exactly the most natural thing in the world to do.

Felix on the other hand seemed confident, more than confident in fact. If Ronicus hadn't known any better he would say that his friend had been doing this for years. There was a certain glimmer in Felix's eyes that just seemed to say "bring it on".

"Felix man." Ron said at last.

"What's up?" His friend replied.

"How can you stand this? We've been here for hours!"

"Calm down Ronicus." He said soothingly. "Soon enough the waiting will be over. We will have our moment of glory."

"The waiting is the hardest part, isn't it?"

"Sure is."

"But you don't seem concerned at all. How can you be so calm?" Ronicus wondered.

"What am I going to do, be scared?"

"Hey I'm not scared I'm just… concerned."

"There's no reason to be concerned man. We're part of the strongest military to ever walk the planet. Look around you Ronicus. Do any of these men look scared?"

Ronicus did indeed look around and could find no fear in the eyes of his comrades. This alone gave him strength.

"I guess you're right." Ronicus admitted.

"Of course I'm right. I've always been the brains in our friendship!"

"Hey I take offense to that!"

"Well if it makes you feel any better, you're a way better cook than I'll ever be."

Ronicus mumbled something under his breath that Felix couldn't exactly make out.

"Look over there!" Felix pointed out towards the front of the boat.

That was when Ronicus saw it. Gigantic cliffs with water being scattered on the rocks below. This was it. This was the fabled Britannia. Civilized man had only set foot on it once before, but not long enough to conquer it. But things would change this time. He was a member of the VIII Legion. Though the legion had been formed only five years earlier, they already had a fierce reputation fighting against the Gallic and Germanic tribes. Today would be another victory to add to their already impressive list.

As they grew closer to the beaches of Britannia, Ronicus felt his stomach begin to act up. He raced for the edge of the ship, where he let loose the contents of his stomach. He continued like that for another minute or so. Felix wasn't sure if Ronicus was just sea sick, or if his pre-battle jitters were really starting to get to him. But it seemed like one way or another it had to be done. Now Ronicus had nothing left in his stomach to expel.

As he walked back to his post, Felix put a hand on Ronicus' armored shoulder.

"Hey buddy, are you sure you're okay?"

"Never better." Ronicus said with a goofy grin. "Except for this taste in my mouth. Yuck."

Felix merely laughed at Ronicus. It seemed like during the course of their friendship that no matter what went wrong for Ronicus, no matter what tragedy befell him, he could always joke about it.

That was when centurion Barkinian came into view from the lower deck. The man looked impressive in his full battle armor and crested helmet. Of course he had shown no fear or nerves during the crossing to Britannia. He had been doing this for too many years to show such emotions. He was a battle-hardened soldier, and thanks to his training, the men of his century would soon be as well.

"Listen up men!" He shouted. "Do not fear whatever we might find on this island. The Britons are a primitive people, with pathetic soldiers and no order. All you must do is remember all you have learned from me, and you will make it back alive!"

A great cheer went up from the men of Barkinian's century.

"And men," He continued. "After today I will be proud to call each and every one of you my brother! For he who sheds his blood for the glory of the Republic and Caesar is worthy of being called my brother!"

Another cheer sounded from the men. Barkinian may have been a tough instructor, but he knew how to get a rise out of his men.

By now they could see that there were people standing on the beach. The Britons were waiting for them There would be no time to get into proper formations or anything that they had trained for. Once they hit the beaches they would have to race out of their ships and hack their way through whatever opposition faced them.

Ronicus was shaking a bit now. So he turned to his other trusty shield and weapon, The Torah. He remembered a verse from the Book of Psalms for a moment such as this.

"Blessed be the LORD my strength which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight. My refuge and my fortress, my stronghold, my deliverer. My shield, in whom I trust, who subdues people under me." He said to himself.

One of the other soldiers turned to him with a curious look on his face.

"What was that?" The legionnaire asked.

"Oh just a verse from The Torah. I'm Jewish after all."

"I see…"

The other soldier turned back to the direction he was facing before, not knowing what to make of what Ronicus just said.

Despite all Felix and Barkinian had done to calm him, this was still the most frightening moment of his life. His breathing turned heavy, his eyes darted from one person to another that stood in front of him. Remember his training? What the heck was his training! At the moment Ronicus' mind was drawing a blank. But it was too late now. The ship had just hit the beaches, and men all around him were pouring out of it. It was now his turn to take the leap. Ronicus the Legionnaire hit the sands, removed his gladius from its scabbard, and ran along side his friend Felix. For glory. For honor. For Rome.

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Kimila stood next to Bonica and Sheko about a hundred yards inland from where the Romans were landing. This was just perfect. Their foes were not adopting their standard military formations, rather just running scattered along the beach. One of the strengths of the Roman military was their tight formations of heavy infantry, but in a beach landing such as this they would be unable to use such tactics. There was simply no time once they hit the sand, for the Britons would be on them almost immediately.

Bonica spat in disgust as she watched the heavily armored Romans swarm the beach before them.

"Look at them. They're like a pack of vermin." She said.

"Vermin yes. But well trained and equipped as well." Kimila answered. "Do not take them lightly."

Kimila looked up at the cliffs to their right. Little did the Romans know, but there were scores of archers hidden up there, waiting for the opportune moment to open fire. That time would come soon enough.

The three ladies stood a bit uncomfortably on the sands. Normally they would be riding to war on their mighty war chariots. But this terrain was not suited for such weapons, and they would have to fight on foot.

"So why isn't daddy participating in the fight?" Sheko smirked as she glanced over at Kimila.

Kimila not only hated it when she was called 'princess', but also when Sheko referred to her father as daddy. Just because she was the daughter of the king did not mean she would get any special treatment.

"He's preparing the defenses further inland." Kimila said without looking at her enemy.

"A convenient excuse. Sounds more like cowardice to me."

Kimila's eyes widened at Sheko's words and she immediately gripped her spear tightly in both hands, pointing the tip at Sheko.

"It would be wise for you to pick your words more carefully next time you speak to me." She said with hatred in her voice.

Sheko's own eyes were filled with hatred, but said nothing as she turned her back on Kimila and walked off towards the front of the battle line. She obviously had more important things to do at the moment than argue with Kimila.

"Soon… soon I will kill you." Sheko said under her breath.

Kimila turned her attention back to the approaching battle. The Romans were now beginning to gather strength on the beaches. There was no more time to waste.

"Bonica, give the signal to the archers to open fire." She ordered.

Bonica merely nodded before she ran off to do as she was told.

Kimila meanwhile began jogging towards the front.

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The barbarians were now running towards the Roman lines, screaming at the top of their lungs as they came. The Romans on the other hand were the epitome of silence. It was one thing to unnerve your opponent with war cries and the like. But it was a completely other thing to be utterly silent as you approached your enemy, perhaps even more frightening. Ronicus stood with Felix to his right in a rough battle line. It was nothing like rectangles that the legions would normally use, right now they were just trying to establish a beach head in Britannia. Then they would march inland in proper formations, ready to crush whatever opposition came at them.

Then he glanced up at the cliff and saw something. There were men standing on it. More of the Britons.

"Archers!" He heard a man somewhere down the battle line cry out.

But by now it was too late. The enemy archers had already let loose with their arrows which were now screaming towards the Roman battle line. Ronicus instinctively raised his shield to ward off the attack, and was rewarded when he felt a thud on it. He lowered his shield to see an arrow sticking out of the center of it. Ronicus grabbed the arrow and broke it free of his shield. Now would not be a good time to have his most effective defense rendered useless.

Unfortunately the man to his left was not quite as lucky. An arrow had pierced the side of his throat, and was now squirting out a geyser of blood. He stood there holding his throat for a matter of moments before collapsing to the ground in pain.

All across the battle line there were a few more victims like the man next to Ronicus. But overall the casualties were relatively light. It was a testament to Roman technology as well as training.

The Britons were nearly on top of them now. Their plan to soften up the Roman line with a missile attack had failed miserably. Ronicus locked eyes with the barbarian opposite of him. This would be the man whom he either killed, or the man who would kill him.

"Strength and honor!" He heard a legionnaire scream.

Ronicus held his shield in front of him as the barbarians smashed into the Roman lines. He had withstood the initial charge of them, but now came the real test. Now came the fight for his life.

The Briton he was facing off against carried a double edged sword and a small circular wooden shield. He swung his blade wildly at Ronicus hoping to decapitate the young legionnaire, but Ronicus was able to duck under the blow. Then Ronicus remembered his training. The standard tactic of the legionnaire was to batter aside his opponents shield with his own large shield, then thrust his gladius into the torso of his enemy. Now it was time to see if he had what it took to be in the legion.

Ronicus took his shield and thrust it forward, catching the small shield of the Briton he was fighting. The Briton was now left almost defenseless, so Ronicus attempted to thrust his gladius into the gut of him. But the barbarian used his own sword to block Ronicus' blade.

"_Okay… back to step one."_ Ronicus thought to himself.

The barbarian now thrust his own blade attempting to penetrate the tough scale mail armor that Ronicus wore. But Ronicus was able to parry the thrust with his own blade before any damage could be done. The Briton then emitted a glutteral scream as he raised his blade high above his head and sent it crashing down onto Ronicus' shield.

The young Roman soldier was knocked off his feet, sitting on his backside as he watched the barbarian raise his blade high above his head once more, this time for the kill. But at the last possible second Ronicus thrust his gladius into the abdomen of his foe.

The two foes stared into each others eyes for a matter of seconds before the Briton warrior collapsed in a heap next to Ronicus. He quickly picked himself off the ground and began searching for his next opponent. He was now running on a combat high, his fears were gone. The only thing that held importance to him at the moment was the kill. This is what he had been trained for. This is what his life was composed of now.

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Kimila thrust her spear into the stomach of another Roman soldier as she looked around for her next target. That was when she saw a comrade of hers standing above one of the Romans with his blade raised high, ready to strike him down. But the Roman had thrust his own blade up before that could happen.

The Roman stood up and glanced around, before his eyes locked with her own. They remained that way for only an instant before she was immediately attacked by another Roman. She held her spear perpendicular to her own body as the legionnaire brought his sword down upon her. Warding off the blow, she then smacked the Roman soldier hard in the head with the butt of her spear before twirling it around and thrusting the tip of the spear into his stomach. They may have had excellent equipment, but they were still no match for the martial prowess of Kimila.

She looked around her and saw that despite the fact that they outnumbered the Romans they were slowly getting pushed back further inland. All around her she saw her comrades in arms dying before the Roman onslaught.

"Kimila!" She heard Bonica scream to her across the battle field.

Kimila turned her head to see her friend and rival making a motion with her arms to run.

"We have to fall back! We can't stop them here like this!" Bonica yelled.

Kimila couldn't argue with that decision. The Romans were quickly gaining ground on them, butchering all of the Britons who stood in their way.

"Fall back!" Kimila shouted to her warriors as she began slowly running backwards.

She did not like to retreat. It was not in her nature to back down from a challenge. That was why this engagement was not pleasing to her at all. They had been beaten, but not broken. There would be another day to fight. That day would come soon enough. She was determined not to fail again.

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The camp had been set up. It was standard Roman military procedure to set up a temporary, walled camp when the day was done. Ronicus had done it many times during his training back in Gaul under centurion Barkinian. Now it was for real though.

The walled camp was complete with a ditch dug all around it's perimeter and guard towers ready to spot an approaching enemy. He now sat in his tent looking at his hands. His red, blood-tinted hands. He was shaking slightly, his combat high now completely worn off. The full magnitude of what he had done was now catching up with him. He had killed. More than once in fact. By his count he had slain five barbarians on this day. And it made him feel sick. The Torah said not to murder. Was this murder? Or was it war? Was there really a difference?

He remembered when he lived back in Judea reading the books of the Torah. He had read stories of war and men killing each other in God's name. But this was not like those stories at all. This was a mission of conquest. This was fighting for the Roman Republic, not for God.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see the smiling form of Felix standing before him.

"You did great today Ronicus!" He said.

"T-thanks." Ronicus managed to spit out.

"From what I saw, you looked like a pro out there."

"Well, we are pros when you think about it."

"True enough." Felix agreed. "So listen, are you okay? You looked kind of shaken up."

"Well, I'm still just trying to get over the fact that today I killed people. It's a bit unnerving. How can you be so fine with it?"

"Stoicism my friend."

"Stoiwhat?" Ronicus asked.

"Some Greek philosophy I read once. It teaches you not to worry about the trivial things in life, not to have all the negative emotions." Felix explained.

"So this is helping you get through the fact that you killed a bunch of people today?"

"What can I say, without it I would be in the same boat you're in. But don't worry man, you're going to get over this. Eventually it will just become normal for you."

"I hope you're right Felix…"

The two continued talking for a little while longer before turning in for the night. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow. They would be marching further inland, seeking another confrontation with the Britons. Today had gone well for Rome, but once the Britons amassed their full strength, would the result be the same?


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note: Hey everyone. I can't believe the amount of support I'm getting for this particular story. I can't thank you guys and girls enough for reading and reviewing. Thanks to RSFan, CajunBear73, Donteatacowman, captainkodak1, Stubbs101, Muzzlehatch, and screaming phoenix for your feedback. It always makes a writer happy to know that people care about their work. Also thanks to Brandon for beta reading.

Disclaimer: I came. I saw. I do not own Kim Possible.

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Kimila did now sleep well that night. Images of the battle still flooded her mind when she closed her eyes. A battle that they had lost. Now the Romans had gained a foothold on Britannia, and there will be no doubt more of them coming. Luckily her father had been preparing defenses and forces further inland. They would stop the Romans. They just had to.

She got up and decided to walk around the camp to stretch her legs, and maybe get something to eat. Killing Romans sure did work up an appetite. She had not eaten since early in the morning when she had woke up, and her stomach had been rumbling all day since the battle. Normally Kimila would be adamantly opposed to killing other human beings. After all there was just something special about them compared to other animals. But now she had no choice. These Romans were invading her home. They would butcher her family and friends if they had the chance. Those that they didn't kill would be sold into slavery. She knew this well, and knew that she would rather die than ever become anyone's slave.

That was her personality after all. Her fiery spirit matched the color of her hair well. Some said that she represented the Celtic goddess Brigid thanks to her personality and prowess on the battle field. Kimila often just smiled when people said this, she was a humble person by nature.

As she walked among the camp fires she soon spotted Bonica sitting on a log next to one of the fires, eating a piece of roasted pork. The aroma of the food made Kimila's mouth water, so she walked over to her friend to try and convince her to share the delicious meal.

"Hey Bonica." She said.

"Kimila… hey." The brunette replied.

"What's wrong?"

"Everything!" She yelled, causing Kim to flinch back for a moment. "I, I'm sorry. It's just that today everything went wrong. We should have won."

"The gods work in mysterious ways, Bonica. Perhaps they are just setting us up for an even greater victory for another day."

"Oh you and your optimism make me sick." Bonica teased playfully.

Kimila smiled at her friend as she sat down beside her. The two stared into the fire, wondering just what was going to happen next.

"Mind cutting me a piece?" Kimila asked.

"Sure."

Bonica proceeded to take out a knife and cut off a piece of the roasted pork and handed it to Kimila.

"Thanks."

"As you would say, 'no big'."

Bonica took another bite of her food before looking over at Kimila.

"So what news have you heard about your father?" Bonica asked.

Kimila finished swallowing her food as she remembered what the messenger had told her a few hours ago.

"Our forces have gathered in strength River Stour. Approximately fifty thousand warriors along with a thousand chariots."

"A thousand?" Bonica said in shock.

"Yup. We're not taking the Romans lightly this time. We're sending everything we have against them. If this fails, I don't know who will stop them."

That was a thought that neither Kimila or Bonica wanted to think about. If they were defeated by the Romans in their next engagement, the rape and pillaging of Britannia would begin. The Romans had a reputation for being fierce and ruthless when it came to looting, especially with the women. Neither of the two young women wanted to picture themselves as the trophies of some cruel Roman officer.

The two talked long into the night about anything that came to their minds. They talked about what they had done in battle earlier in the day, how many Romans they had killed, but that was not all. They talked about boys, even though neither of them had the time or energy to find a boyfriend at the moment. Considering everything that had happened earlier, the two ladies were in high spirits that night.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ronicus was awoken at the crack of dawn when the legions horn blowers sounded. This was the part of military life that he hated. He was the type of person who would sleep until the sun was high over the sky if he could. But maybe the military was good for him after all. It gave him not only courage and money, but discipline as well. And if there was one thing that he could use more of, it was discipline.

He walked out of his tent and smelled the food cooking. Ronicus had what seemed like a bottomless pit for a stomach, so he would be needing lots of food today. After that they were ordered to march twelve miles inland to the River Stour to meet the Britons in battle once more. This time however it would be a much more organized assault. There would be no mercy shown to those who still fought. The Romans had shown their superiority once already in battle, and if the barbarians refused to learn who was in charge, then they would all be slain as a result.

"Ronicus!" A voice called out to him.

The young man turned around to see none other than centurion Barkinian walking towards him with a grim expression on his face. This was nothing new from the officer, but it was still never a good sign to have him want to speak with you.

"Sir?" Ronicus said as he put his closed right fist to his heart in salute of his centurion.

"I just wanted to tell you in person that you fought very well yesterday. It takes a certain kind of man to be in the legions, and I think you might just have what it takes."

"T-thank you sir." Ron barely managed to get out.

What on earth was this? Had Barkinian actually complimented him? This was definitely something new.

"But don't let it go to your head Ronicus. The last thing we need in this legion are a bunch of young new recruits thinking they're the best in the legion. That's a good way to get yourself killed."

"Yes sir."

With that Barkinian marched away from Ronicus to get some food for himself. Ronicus thought about what had been said to him. He had indeed done well. There was a point early in the battle where he had almost been killed, but his quick reflexes had saved his life. After that he had killed more men, seemingly with ease. The Britons did not fight like the Romans. Where the Roman army fought as a whole, as a unit, the barbarians fought as individuals. They saw personal glory and martial prowess the most important part of the battle, where the Romans shunned such arrogant acts. Thus the barbarians were often easy targets for a swift thrust from a Roman gladius.

Ronicus sat down next to Felix, who was currently enjoying his breakfast.

"So what did Barkinian want?" The brown haired legionnaire asked.

"Oh, he just complimented me about what I did yesterday." Ronicus replied.

"Seriously? I don't think he said anything to anyone else."

"Yeah well, I was probably the only one throwing up overboard yesterday before the ships hit the beach."

"Yeah good point. You really are too soft to be a legionnaire."

"Hey!"

"Just kidding dude." Felix laughed. "You're a real killer." He said with sarcasm.

"Well, I am."

"Yeah yeah, aren't we all."

"I still can't believe it. Me, Ronicus, a battle tested legionnaire. It just doesn't sound right. I'm supposed to be a Jewish merchants son who thrives in trade."

Felix merely nodded in agreement before switching topics.

"So, see anything interesting yesterday?"

Ronicus thought about it for a few moments. Something interesting? How about a guy whose blood shot out of his neck like a fountain stream. How about the entrails of men hanging out of their stomachs. How about the sand turned red from all of the blood spilled. But then again there was…

"Well I did see one thing." Ronicus admitted.

"What is it?"

"I saw… a girl."

"Yeah I've seen girls too Ronicus." Felix smiled.

"No no no. I mean on the battle field. She had long red hair, and was spearing men through their guts. She was absolutely beautiful."

"What ever happened to not being attracted to those 'hairy things they call women'?"

"I don't know man. There was just something about this one. I only saw her for a few seconds, but she was just… wow."

"Yeah, well just don't let Barkinian hear you admiring the enemy like that."

"Will do."

Ronicus and Felix continued talking until it was announced that it was time to pack up the camp and get moving. They had a long march to accomplish before going to war once more. Ronicus figured that this was probably the reason they marched so much during their training, to build endurance and strength. As he sat there he tensed up his hamstring muscles and felt them. They were huge, and rock hard. He told himself he could probably march twenty miles in a day with no worries.

He took his gladius from out of its sheath and looked at the blade. It was still tinted red from the dried blood that had been on it since yesterday. How much more would he spill today? Whose blood would he spill today? A father? A son? Or worse yet, a mother or daughter? Ronicus still hated war despite being a professional soldier. He still felt awful about the lives he had taken yesterday. He feared he would never be able to get over it all.

XXXXXXXXXX

Kimila glared out at the army opposing them from across the river. There were thousands of Roman soldiers in their rectangular formations. Though the Britons outnumbered them by more than two to one, this battle would still surely be bloody and hard fought. Today was a day of reckoning, a day which would perhaps decide the fate of southern Britannia.

She stood on the platform of her chariot with her spear gripped in her right hand. Beside her on the chariot was Bonica, who was currently brandishing a pair of hand axes. Together they would wreak much havoc on the Roman battle lines. The usual tactic with Briton chariots dictated charging forward before abandoning the chariots, sending them plowing into the enemy ranks. This would not only kill and injure a good number of men, but it would also break up their formation and make them easier to kill.

"So, what do you think of this sitch?" Kimila asked her friend.

"I think it's payback time." Bonica smiled.

A whole one thousand light Briton chariots were currently formed up on the right flank of the Briton line. In the center and the left flank consisted of infantry of all kinds. Armed with an assortment of swords and axes, and equipped with iron helmets and small wooden shields, the Briton infantry were no match for the Roman legions in a one on one fight. But with the addition of the chariots, the battle might just be turned in the favor of the Britons. That was what Kimila was hoping at least.

Her father watched over his forces with a stern gaze. As king of the tribe, it was his responsibility to defend their homeland. And he would do so or die trying.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ronicus never thought that a twelve mile march could feel so good. But that was what he was feeling as he looked out at the barbarian forces across the shallow river. The nerves that he had felt only a day earlier had mostly subsided. Felix was right about that at least. He was not looking forward to the upcoming combat by any stretch of the imagination, but at least he no longer feared it.

So there he stood, awaiting the barbarians to charge them. Julius Caesar knew that it would only be a matter of time before the barbarian forces were forced to come to them. They were an impetuous and proud bunch without a doubt, and would not stand idly by while an invading force walked on their soil. So it was up to Ronicus and the rest of the legionnaires to hold the line and drive them back.

Ronicus and the VIII Legion were stationed on the left flank of the Roman battle line, directly across from the massed chariots of the barbarians. He didn't have a good feeling about this. He looked around at the men surrounding him and noticed the same sort of fear in their eyes. It was one thing to be facing off against other infantry. But it was quite another to be forced to face down heavy wheeled war machines carrying the elite of the enemy army. That was what they were after all, the best that the barbarians had to offer. They were the sons and daughters of the nobility of the Briton tribes.

That was when he heard drums begin to beat. They were not from the enemy however, but from his own side. A steady, monotone beat went on for minutes as the Roman army stood in silence before the barbarian forces. As if to counter the Romans intimidation attempt, the barbarians let out a great war cry of their own before they began to close in on their foes.

Ronicus realized that his legion would be taking the brunt of the chariot assault. This time he was not in the front rank of the army however, which he was thankful to The LORD for. To be in the front rank against a chariot attack would mean almost certain death. No, this time he stood in the fifth rank out of eight. Beside him was Felix, and over to the right outside of the formation he could see centurion Barkinian shouting orders of encouragement to the men. They were well trained and well disciplined and would not run, but it never hurt to give more encouragement.

That was when he saw her. Riding in the lead chariot was the beautiful young woman who he had seen the prior day. He could recognize her blazing red hair from across the battle field.

With that, Ronicus shuddererd.

XXXXXXXXXX

The first wave of chariots were nearly upon the Roman lines, and thus the charioteers of the Britons abandoned their machines and leapt to the ground. The horse-drawn carts plowed into the ranks of Roman soldiers, scattering a few, and crushing many others under their weight.

Kimila and Bonica were joined by a host of other warriors as they stood only about ten yards away from the Roman lines. Little did they know, the Romans were prepared for such an event.

Each legionnaire carried two pila, or javelins. When they were within throwing range, the Roman soldiers would throw their pila with all of their might, hoping to not only strike down enemy warriors, but to lodge the javelin in enemies shield, rendering it useless in battle. And that was just what happened.

The Roman forces reformed their ranks with quickness and discipline and quickly drew their pila from their backs. In a matter of seconds they sent a hail of javelins towards the Briton forces. Many of them were equipped with small wooden shields, but some were not. Thus a great many of the Briton forces fell to the javelin attacks.

Kimila realized that they should not be waiting around to take another volley from the Roman lines. The time to attack was now.

"Attack!" She screamed at the top of her lungs.

The response of the Briton forces was to also yell as loud as they could as they ran forward to engage the enemy.

Kimila had by now ditched her shield and was gripping her spear in two hands. Charging with all of her might, she thrust her spear at the torso of the first legionnaire that got within her striking distance, but her blow was warded off by her opponent's shield. The legionnaire now used his shield to try to knock away Kimila's spear, but she had been anticipating such an attack and pulled her it back close to her body. Still holding onto it, she swung it underhanded and into the now exposed crotch of the Roman soldier, doubling him over in pain. Seizing the moment, Kimila took her weapon and thrust it upward into the ribs of the legionnaire, ending his part in the war permanently.

Another swung his sword at Kimila, who neatly ducked under the swing. She then tackled the legionnaire to the ground, holding her spear in both hands using the haft to choke the soldier as he was pinned to the ground. Realizing that she did not have time for this, she reached down to her waist and drew a short dagger, which she thrust into the side of the Roman's throat. A stream of blood came pouring out from the wound, soaking her hand in the warm crimson fluid. She then realized she was very vulnerable in that position and stood up immediately.

Looking around she saw that the Roman lines were beginning to buckle under the pressure of the chariot offensive. Now was the time to press forward and break their lines forever.

XXXXXXXXXX

Bonica swung her axes like a madwoman. She had already slain two of the Roman soldiers and quickly saw a third.

She wildly swung the axe in her right hand, which impacted hard on the legionnaire's shield and managed to get itself stuck in the wood of the shield. With the axe in her left hand she once more swung down, this time her blow being parried by the sword of her enemy. With both of her weapon arms being nullified at the moment, she took the opportunity to kick with all of her might into the gut of the Roman soldier. This sent him reeling back a bit, but also freed up the axe in her left hand, the one formerly in her right hand still stuck in his shield. With as much force as she could muster she brought the axe down on top of the man's helmet, splitting it open with a shower of blood and gray matter.

Satisfied that her work there was done, Bonica bent over to retrieve her axe that was stuck in the shield of the now dead man. She saw another Roman charging her with his sword held high, but she was able to deflect the blow with one of her axes. She then swung her left axe in a sideways motion, catching the Roman in the ribs. Though it penetrated his armor and wounded him, it did not kill him. Smiling because she knew she could change that, Bonica swung her other axe at the side of the Roman's neck, almost decapitating him. His head was left hanging onto his neck by a thread as he collapsed to the ground.

Looking around her she saw that Kimila was having similar success. She then set off to find her next opponent, or victim, however one wanted to look at it.

XXXXXXXXXX

All over the battlefield there was chaos. On the Roman right flank, the X Legion was currently carving through the barbarian lines like a scythe would cut through wheat. The center was turning into a bloody stalemate, with neither side able to gain an advantage so far. But it was on the left flank that things were looking grim for the Roman forces.

Ronicus used his shield to block the swing of one of his barbaric foes, before thrusting his gladius deep into the ribs of his unarmored opponent. Satisfied that his opponent was dead, he spotted another Briton who was wielding a huge two-handed sword. The warrior had a crazed look in his eyes as he charged at Ronicus.

The first swing had such force that it knocked the shield right out of Ronicus' hand. Left almost defenseless now, he realized that he would have to go on the offensive. He sent his gladius forward aimed for the gut of his foe, but the barbarian parried the attack. He then kicked Ronicus, who fell to the ground hard. Looking down at his opponent, the barbarian raised his sword high and brought it down to the ground where he was laying, but he was able to roll out of the way just in time.

Before standing up, Ronicus retrieved his shield from the ground and was now once more ready to face his adversary. Raising his sword high over his head once more, the barbarian brought it crashing down onto the shield of Ronicus, who was prepared this time for the force of the blow. Now left exposed, the barbarian struggled to regain his composure, but this was more than enough time for Ronicus to deliver his blade into the torso of his enemy. The barbarian's eyes widened as the blade penetrated just underneath his ribcage, and looked at Ronicus with a look of hate on his face. The eyes of the barbarian then rolled up in the back of his head as he fell to the ground dead.

More and more chariots and their riders were plowing into the ranks of the Republic's legions, and Ronicus was fighting for his life. He had nearly been killed when a chariot came thundering towards him, but he was barely able to dive out of the way. The man next to him was not so lucky and was crushed under the weight of the barbarian war machine. Standing up and brandishing his gladius, Ron saw that his mystery woman was cutting a path towards him with her spear.

Ronicus was not pleased by this. He had no intention of fighting a woman. But then again, what choice did he have? Even if he didn't fight her, she would still surely fight him. Therefore he was left with no other option but to attack her.

As he closed in on his newly chosen opponent, it became apparent to her that he was set on attacking her. The red-haired barbarian woman smiled as they met face to face for the first time.

Ronicus thrust his shield forward into his barbarian foe, but it was as if she was expecting the attack and pulled her spear in to avoid the blow. Next she attempted to swing her spear underhandedly, but he was able to parry the attack with his gladius. The two circled each other warily, apparently knowing now that they knew each others moves. So Ronicus decided that he would just have to come up with some new ones.

He brought his blade downward in a slashing motion to try to split her open from the top of her head down to her feet. But the attack was deflected by the haft of her spear, which she then used to smack him in the side of the head. Ronicus' ears rang and was quickly knocked off of his feet by another attack from the red-haired woman. That was when he realized he was all alone. The rest of his cohort had apparently broken and was now fleeing the onslaught of the barbarian chariots.

Panic soon spread throughout the ranks of the Roman army as they realized that their left flank had completely collapsed. Despite the success on the right flank, the legionnaires of the X Legion were now making a controlled retreat back to the fortified position of their camp.

Ronicus lay on the ground, holding his hands above his chest to try to shield himself as his female opponent held her spear tip down at his throat. But to his surprise she did not finish him off. No, rather, she spoke to him.

"Get up. Now" She said sternly.

"Um… how about you quit pointing that spear at me first."

"Shut up."

"Okay okay. You don't have to be so bossy."

"I am not bossy." Kimila huffed.

"Then quit giving me orders."

"You're my prisoner. I'm supposed to be giving you orders."

"You could be a bit nicer."

"Nice? We're in a damn war here, um, what's your name?"

"Ronicus."

"Okay Ronicus. You expect me to be nice to someone who has no doubt killed people from my tribe?"

"Do unto others as you would have others do unto you." Ronicus quoted.

Ronicus could hardly believe the turn of events. What had started as such a promising day had turned into a complete disaster. Half of the Roman army was fleeing, while the other half was executing a controlled fighting retreat against the Britons. He had only one thing to say about his current situation as he stood up.

"Crap." He said as he gazed into the eyes of his captor.

XXXXXXXXXX

Julius Caesar was not a happy man. He and his entourage had been on horseback atop a hill overlooking the battlefield. To see his left flank crumble before the chariot attack made him fume with rage. Why had they not used the Zama strategy, where they would open up their ranks and let the chariots pass through them harmlessly? There was only one solution for what had taken place.

Decimation.

One in ten men from the VIII Legion would be executed for their cowardice in battle. Maybe that would teach them some discipline, Caesar mused.

A rider carrying a message for Caesar approached the general, and put his clenched right fist to his heart in salute of his commander.

"What news do you bring Lucius?" Caesar asked his aide.

"Sir, there is a local chieftain who wishes to speak with you. He says that there is an important matter to discuss."

"Really. What is this mans name?"

"He goes by the name of Drakkarius."

Caesar pondered over the matter for a few moments. Surely it was not terms of Roman surrender, as Caesar knew that it was King Jaimus who was in command of the barbarian forces who had met him in battle today. Being the master of intrigue and politics that he was, Caesar sensed that there was more to this offer than meets the eye.

"Very well. Set up a meeting between him and me, but on my terms."

"Yes sir."

With that, Lucius rode off back to where he came. Caesar let a smirk form on his face. It was true that today may have been lost. But the war was far from over.


	4. Chapter 4

Authors Note: Thanks to everyone who has read, especially captainkodak1, King of Mantheren, screaming phoenix, RSfan, Donteatacowman, Muzzlehatch, CajunBear73, daccu65, Mengsk, and Mr. Wizard. You people are the awesome-est of the awesome! Yeah I know awesome-est isn't a word, but oh well. Thanks to Brandon for the beta read.

Also, CajunBear73 brought up a good point. Just how exactly do they understand each others languages? After all, Ronicus speaks Hebrew, the Romans speak Latin, and the Britons speak Celtic. Well, I just figured it would make life a lot easier for both the characters and myself if everyone just understood each other. It doesn't make the most sense in the world, but it will just have to do.

Disclaimer: Et tu, Kim Possible? I do not own you?

XXXXXXXXXX

The city, if one could even call it that, was relatively primitive compared to those of the Romans. Even their military camps were more orderly and fortified than this.

Ronicus was being led to what he could only assume were the prisoners quarters with the rest of the men that were taken captive from his legion. All in all there were about fifty of them. Their hands were tied behind their backs with ropes, and they were completely stripped of their armor and weapons. It was humiliating to him. He was supposed to be a legionnaire, the pride of Rome. But now he was nothing more than a prisoner of war.

Entering the village he noticed that there were no stone buildings. Everything was made of wood and mud. There were no homes like there were in a civilized city, rather a collection of huts in varying shapes and sizes. There were no wells, no aqueduct, no theater, and no colosseum. Just what the heck kind of civilization was this supposed to be anyway?

His mystery woman was marching along beside him with her spear pointed towards him. He was still amazed that she had not killed him right then and there on the battlefield. He was grateful for sure, but he would never tell her that. If he spoke to her she would probably do away with him right then and there. He figured the best option at the moment was to keep his mouth shut.

He noticed two other women close to the red-haired beauty. One was pale with dark hair, and carried a long sword and wooden shield. The other had brown hair and wielded two small hand axes. Ronicus was still amazed at the fact that women of this culture fought as the men did. It was all so foreign to him. Back in Rome, or even Judea for that matter, the women were mostly confined to the home where they cooked, wove, and maintained the household. But these women were apparently more than willing to go out and fight, risking their very lives when they did not have to.

"Faster!" The dark haired woman shouted at the prisoners.

Ronicus' legs were sore though. He had already marched a good twelve miles that day, and he did not know how far he had walked to get back to the barbarian village. He simply could not go any faster even if he wanted to.

"I said move it!" The woman repeated.

But Ronicus could not. As a result she lashed out with her leg, kicking Ronicus in the side of his leg making him fall into a pool of mud. He lay there for a moment holding his knee where the woman had made contact.

"Sheko!" Another one yelled.

Ronicus looked up at who had spoken, and saw that it was the redhead.

"What do you want Kimila?" Sheko asked her.

"What are you doing? Don't attack our prisoners."

"Are you insane or something? These are good for nothing Roman scum. I'll treat them the way I want."

"They may be Romans, but they're people as well. There is no honor in attacking a man whose arms are bound behind his back."

Kimila crouched to the ground and helped Ronicus stand up again.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

Sticking to the whole "silence is the best defense" policy, Ronicus merely nodded in response.

"Alright. Now get moving." She said.

Ronicus limped onward as the brunette came up beside Kimila. She pulled her aside so that she could speak in private.

"Kimila, what are you doing? Did you just ask that Roman pig if he was okay?"

"Yes Bonica. Unlike some people I care about human life."

"I care plenty about the lives of humans, just not those who are invading our home."

"Look at him. He looks no older than either of us. He's probably scared to death about what we're going to do with him."

"Well, with good reason." Bonica smiled. "After the druids are done with them we won't need to worry about treating them nicely, now will we?"

Kimila shook her head with disgust.

"I still can't believe you actually like what they do with our captives. It's horrible and despicable."

"Do you have a better way to thank the gods for granting us a victory in battle?

Kimila mulled it over for a few moments. Honestly, no. Only the druids were able to communicate with the gods. And they decreed that human sacrifice was a good way to appease them. But it didn't mean that she had to agree with it. War was one thing. She was able to kill a man to defend her family and home. But sacrifices? That was just murder.

"Bonica I'm not going to argue with you. You know my views on the subject."

"Whatever."

Bonica walked off towards where Sheko was. They were having more "fun" with the Roman prisoners. Sheko had even gone as far as to pull one aside, and stick her sword straight into his stomach. The captive legionnaire collapsed to his knees in pain before rolling over on his side where he remained. Sheko and Bonica merely laughed at the man's demise as Kim shook her head.

XXXXXXXXXX

So it seemed this was how he was going to die.

Ronicus had been a captive and slave for about a week now. He had been doing manual labor for the Britons for the entire time. They figured he was perfectly suited for it. He was strong and in shape, just like the rest of the legionnaires. All the while he had been abused and ridiculed by the barbarians as he worked. But that wasn't the worst of it. There were the rumors as well.

Some of the legionnaires who had participated in Caesar's first expedition to Britannia only a year earlier began to tell stories about the native people. They told stories of human sacrifice, where the men would be tied to stakes and their throats cut. Ronicus didn't want to believe it was true. What kind of society would condone such actions? If this was true than they really were a barbaric people as he had been taught they were. He thought about his own religion, which absolutely forbade human sacrifice. What kind of gods these people must worship, he thought to himself.

As he was carrying a pile of wood from the forest to the site of a camp fire, he was intentionally pushed to the ground by one of the Britons.

"Watch where you're going, Roman pig." The man sneered.

Ronicus was enraged. How dare they treat him like this. He stood up and was about to take a swing at the man, but thought better of it. If he attacked one of the Britons at a moment like this he would surely be killed. No, there would be another day for that. Right now his job was to just pick up the firewood and bring it to its destination.

"What's wrong, scared to fight back?" The man said.

"No, I just don't feel it's right to fight a woman." Ron smiled back.

The man's eyes widened at the insult, and he produced a dagger from the sheath on his hip.

"You stupid little…" He said as he raised his arm to strike Ronicus down with the dagger.

But before he could do so a set of hands grabbed the man's arm and pulled it backward.

"What is it with you people!" Kimila yelled. "He's going to die anyway, why not just make what little time he has left easier?"

"But he said-"

"Look Arik, I don't care what he said to you. I saw the whole thing. You started this fight, now just walk away."

Arik mumbled something under his breath as he stalked away from the confrontation.

"Looks like this is the second time I've saved you." Kimila smiled at Ronicus.

Ronicus returned the smile and nodded, but did not say a word.

"What's wrong? Why not speak to your rescuer? Or at least just say 'thank you'."

"I…"

"Yes?"

"I um, don't know why I should be thanking you. You just said I was going to die…"

Kimila realized what she had said and mentally cursed herself. Now word was going to spread back to the rest of the prisoners that they were going to die. And with the current rumors going around, she figured that they would connect it back to the sacrifice.

"Look, here's the sitch." Kimila spoke to him. "There's going to be some rather unpleasant stuff going on soon as far as you're concerned. You and your men are going to be sacrificed to The Dagda."

Ronicus' eyes widened at what Kimila had just said. So it was true.

"I don't want to die…" He whispered.

"I know, but what other choice do we have?" Kimila lamented. "We have to appease the gods somehow."

"God."

"What?"

"There is only one God."

"Sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me." Kimila told him. "Just where in the world do you come from where there is only one god?"

"I'm from the province of Judea."

"Where is that?"

"It's right above Egypt and below Samaria."

Kimila still looked confused. And why shouldn't she be? Her whole life she has been living on the isle of Britannia. She had no idea of the existence of such places. She only knew of her island home, Gaul, Germania, and Italia. Everywhere else was a complete mystery to her. She always hungered for knowledge, and she figured now was a good time to learn something new.

"What's it like in Judea?" She asked him.

"Well, there's plenty of desert, that's for sure."

Kimila still looked confused.

"You don't know what a desert is, do you?" Ronicus asked.

She shook her head.

"Okay, you know the beaches here in Britannia?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well just imagine a land where as far as the eye can see, there is sand. Not only that, but it is very hot in the day time, and very cold at night. There are also very few trees, or any kind of vegetation for that matter. And except for rivers and lakes, there is pretty much no water."

Kimila looked impressed by what Ronicus had just told her.

"What kind of horrible land must this be?" She wondered.

"It's the promised land."

"The what?"

"The land that God promised to the descendents of Abraham."

Kimila shook her head at this. She could not believe what she was hearing.

"No one owns land, um, what was your name again?"

"Ronicus."

"Look Ronicus, no one owns the land except the gods. The forests, the lakes, the grasslands, no man owns those. We are just lucky enough to use them, and if the gods will it, they grant us good weather and harvests."

"Then it looks like we disagree on something, but hey, considering I'm your prisoner, we probably disagree on a lot of things, don't we?"

Kimila laughed.

"Yeah, like this whole stupid war." Her face and tone then turned serious. "Why are your people invading our land?"

"I don't know. By the way, I didn't catch your name."

"It's Kimila."

"Look Kimila, I have nothing against you or your people. It's just that my family is bankrupt. After we moved from Judea to Rome, the people there boycotted my fathers business because we were foreigners. I joined the army so that I could get money to send back home to them."

"That's very sweet of you."

"Yeah well, looks like I won't be able to do anything about it now, seeing how I'm going to be sacrificed to your gods."

Kimila frowned. It was the truth after all.

"You're a strange man Ronicus. But I like you. That's why I'm going to save you."

"Save me? How?"

"Do you have any skills?" She asked.

"Besides killing?"

"Yes besides killing." She smiled.

"Well, my father was in the silk business, so I know my way around that."

"Silk?" Kimila asked, confused.

"Nevermind silk. I can also cook."

"You can cook? That might just be enough to save you… becoming a house servant."

The prospect of becoming a house servant wasn't the most appealing thing in the world. But it was a whole lot better than death, that was for sure.

"What will happen to the other captives?" He asked her.

Kimila broke eye contact with him and looked down before she spoke.

"They… they will be sacrificed to The Dagda."

"I see."

Ron mulled over his fate for a few moments. He may not be dying, but he was still going to be a prisoner. That meant that there might just be a way to get himself out of here.

As the two sat there and continued to talk, they heard someone walking up behind them.

"Oh look, Kimmie's made a new friend!" Sheko said sarcastically.

Kimila stood up and faced Sheko.

"What do you want?" She asked.

"Just wanted to let you know that Bonica and I are going on a bear hunt. Thought you might want to join us. Hey you can even bring your new best friend, he can be the bait."

"No one is using Ronicus as bait." Kimila growled.

"Oh so you gave your pet a name? Well you know what they say, once you name them you can't get rid of them."

"Shut up Sheko. He's not an animal."

"Might as well be. He is a Roman after all."

"Um, technically I'm Jewish." Ronicus spoke up.

"I don't know what that is, nor do I care." Sheko replied with disgust. "So what do you say Kimila, care to join us?"

Kimila thought it over for a moment. This might actually be a good thing. If Ronicus could not only cook, but hunt as well, he might be seen as a valuable addition to the tribe. The Britons were generally very accepting of foreigners, and despite the fact that he was a Roman if he could perform tasks well in their society they just might keep him around rather than sacrifice him.

"Fine Sheko. We'll go."

"Great!" Sheko said with sarcasm. "Let's just hope the bears don't maul your little friend now."

"_Or you, princess."_ She thought to herself.

XXXXXXXXXX

So far the hunt had been a complete bust. Kimila, Ronicus, Bonica, and Sheko had been searching for the past hour, but to no avail. There had been no bears spotted so far.

"I don't even know why you brought this dog with us Kimila." Bonica said harshly to her friend.

"He's not a dog, his name is Ronicus." Kimila bit back.

"Whatever. He had better not screw this up."

"In case you didn't notice, this guy is a soldier. Hunting a bear should be no big for him."

"Yeah, we'll see once we actually find one. He's probably going to run around screaming for his mother."

"You know, I'm right here Bonica." Ronicus said.

"Shut up Roman!" Bonica yelled as she punched Ronicus in the face, sending him to the ground with a loud thud. "And don't you ever talk to me unless I speak your name first, slave!"

"Bonica!" Kimila said angrily.

"What!"

Kimila didn't say anything as she helped Ronicus to his feet.

"Seems like I have a habit of helping you up, don't I." She smiled at him.

"Yeah. Thanks Kimila."

"No big."

"Look if you three are finished messing around, I think I heard something off to the west." Sheko said as she pointed.

The three teens looked over to where she was pointing, and sure enough there it was. A massive brown bear, standing at least twice as tall as any one of them. It emerged from the forest and looked at the four people gathered there. Slowly it began walking towards them, as if smelling its next meal.

"So um, how do we exactly go about killing this bear?" Ronicus wondered.

"Like this!" Sheko said as she pushed him towards the bear before running away with Bonica.

Bonica grabbed Kimila by the arm and dragged her along with her, leaving Ronicus alone to fight the beast.

He was armed only with a hunting spear, which was a completely foreign weapon to him. In the old days of the Republic, before the Marian Reforms, a class of Roman soldiers had fought with spears. They were known as the Triarii. They were also veteran soldiers, often the most wealthy and experienced in the entire legion. But Ronicus was no Triarii. He had never even fought with a spear before. He didn't like his odds in this battle.

He gripped the spear in both hands as the bear approached him. There would be little room for skill here, as he was facing an opponent who didn't care about such things. This was kill or be killed in the most savage sort of way. One swipe from the bears claws would spell disaster for the young man. And a bite from its razor sharp teeth could certainly cost him a limb.

As the bear got closer, Ronicus realized that he could just throw his spear at the bear and run away. But truth be told, he did not want to. Where would he run anyway? There was no where to go. He was deep behind enemy lines, so there was no chance of making it back to his own camp. No, the only option he had was to stand and fight. But the fact that he had no where to go was not the only reason for his decision. There was also her.

Kimila was the only Briton who had been nice to him. He wanted to impress her, and show that he would be a valuable addition to the tribe. That way he wouldn't die in the sacrifice. If he was going to be stuck here, he might as well make a friend.

The bear was now within striking distance, and that's just what Ronicus did. He thrust the spear with all of his might into the torso of the great bear, which earned a roar of pain from the beast. But the bear was not about to be put down so easily, and it swiped it's mighty claw at Ronicus, catching him in the chest. He was thrown off his feet by the force of the blow and landed a few feet away from the bear.

Bonica and Sheko merely smiled at the battle that was unfolding. Kimila on the other hand wore a horrified expression on her face. She had told him that she could save him. And what had she done? She had led him right into a death trap. Honor was something that she valued very highly, and she was not about to be made a liar of. Ronicus would live. She was determined to make it so.

Ronicus got to his feet once more and picked his spear up off the ground. He made a feigning motion with the spear, but the bear was unimpressed and swiped the spear out of his hands with it's paw. Now weaponless, Ronicus stood there, seemingly accepting his fate.

"I'm sorry mother, father… I failed." He said to himself.

As the bear stood over him, it brought down it's great claw to end Ronicus' life and secure a meal for itself. But before it could connect with the young legionnaire, he was suddenly knocked off of his feet by a blur of red hair. The blow never connected as Kimila tackled him off to the side, where they rolled for a moment before coming to a halt.

Bonica saw that they were both now in a position of great peril and rushed off to aid her friend and the Roman. Sheko on the other hand just stood by passively looking on at the battle. She was not about to go help Kimila or her friend.

Bonica took a running start at the bear before hurling her spear at it like a javelin. The weapon connected with the great beasts neck, which sent it back down to all four legs. Seizing the moment, Bonica drew one of her axes and ran at the bear, where she brought down her axe on the back of the bears neck. The bear let out a great cry before it fell to the ground, where it lay dead.

Kimila meanwhile was still on top of Ronicus from when she had tackled him out of the way of the bears paw swipe. The two looked into each others eyes for a matter of moments before Ronicus spoke up.

"Um Kimila?"

"Yes?"

"You can get off me now."

"Oh."

Kimila blushed slightly as she realized the position she was in. She got to her feet and helped Ronicus up.

"You're right you know." He said. "You really do help me up a lot."

"Yeah." She said still blushing.

What was wrong with her? Why was she blushing so much? This was just a boy, a boy she had just met! Sure he was nice and all, and sort of good looking, but she shouldn't be feeling so…

Kimila shook the thoughts from her head. Another day, she told herself. Right now she had to help Bonica and Sheko cut up the eatable parts of the bear and put them in the baskets to take home.

"Wow look at this thing." Bonica remarked. "It's huge. Looks like there will be a feast tonight."

Ronicus meanwhile was looking at Kimila in a different light now. She had saved his life. Twice now when he thought about it. First by telling him that she would make sure he was not part of the sacrifice, and now from the bear. Since the first time he had seen her he had thought she was beautiful, but now she was attractive in so many other ways. Her kindness, her prowess on the battlefield and in the hunt, the cute way she blushed…

"_Wait, did I just think that her blush was cute?"_ He asked himself.

He cast the thoughts out of his mind as he went over to the bear carcass and began helping out in any way he could.

XXXXXXXXXX

Julius Caesar sat at a table where he awaited the arrival of Drakkarius. Around him were the men of his bodyguard, just incase the barbarian was attempting some double cross. He was not pleased at all. The barbarian scum was late, and for a meeting he had proposed! That was when he heard galloping.

He was here.

Drakkarius dismounted from his horse, as did the rest of his retinue. Garbed in the typical barbarian cloths and furs, wearing blue war paint, and with a long scar under his eye, Drakkarius was a fearsome sight to behold. Well for most to behold, but not a great leader such as Caesar.

"So Drakkarius," He began. "What exactly are your intentions here with me?

"I bring to you a proposal." Drakkarius said.

"A proposal of what?"

"As you know, I am a powerful chieftain of the Britons. But not king… you see Caesar, I want more."

"Go on." Caesar smiled.

"I will ally my warriors with Rome, and help you destroy the remaining forces of the Britons, if you install me as the King of Britannia."

Caesar considered the possibilities for a moment. It was true, Drakkarius was a influential chieftain and commanded a great number of warriors. With him on the side of Rome, the conquest of Britannia could be brought about more swiftly than he had ever considered.

"Consider it done, Drakkarius. When will we strike?"

"In two week's time."

"Then we have reached an accord. Cassius," Caesar called out. "Bring out the wine for myself and my… ally."

Cassius brought out the cups and containers of wine and poured some for the two leaders.

Caesar smiled inwardly. The stupid barbarian. As if Rome would ever strike any sort of deal with people of their ilk. Once the task was done, his forces would turn on Drakkarius' men and take them as slaves back to Rome. After all, once it was all said and done, there would be no one left in Britannia to oppose him. And thus, he would have quite the welcome homecoming.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors Note: Thanks to everyone who cares about this story. Also, thanks to Muzzlehatch, screaming phoenix, Donteatacowman, RSfan, Mr. Wizard, CajunBear73, Comet Moon, and OceanicLegend for reviewing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ronicus couldn't believe his eyes. Yet it was happening.

Approximately fifty of the Roman prisoners of war were tied to stakes outside the village. Each one of them had a look of terror in their eyes, for they knew what was coming next. But perhaps the most disturbing of all was the chanting of the druids. They continued their monotone chanting in a language that Ronius could not understand, but he did not need to. He knew what was going on. They were communicating with their gods. It make him sick.

He wondered how people could be so barbaric. He wondered just what kind of civilization condoned human sacrifice like this. Didn't they treasure human life like they did in his culture? Even the Romans, who were as brutal as they came when it came to the gladiatorial games did not practice human sacrifice.

But at least he wasn't up there. No, his life had been spared by Kimila. If she hadn't been a daughter of noble birth she may not have been able to pull it off. But she was able to convince her father that he would be a valuable member of their society. Thus he was not part of the ritual. But that still didn't make him feel any better. Those were his comrades up there. He had known some of them since he began his training nearly three months ago. But he was thankful that Felix was not among them. That was one positive at least.

He turned his back on the ritual, as did Kimila who was currently standing beside him. Over the past week they had become close friends, spending almost every free moment they had with each other. But Ronicus didn't have many of those, considering he was still seen as a slave to the tribe. Perhaps he would always be seen that way by them, but it was a lot better than ending up with a slit throat.

"This… this is sick and wrong." Ron said angrily.

"I know Ronicus, I know." Kimila agreed.

"How can your people do this! These are human beings!"

"I honestly don't know. I'm still torn on the subject. On one hand this is a truly barbaric practice. But on the other hand, how else is one supposed to communicate with the gods?"

"Through prayer." Ronicus stated plainly.

"What is this prayer you speak of?"

"It's just talking to God. Making requests, asking for forgiveness, praising Him."

Kimila laughed a bit.

"That sounds like a bunch of silliness to me, Ronicus. Don't you think the gods have better things to do than listen to what a bunch of mortals have to say?"

"Do you believe that your gods are watching over you? Do you believe that they actually care about you and your people?"

"Of course they do. We are their creations after all."

"Then why wouldn't they listen?"

Kimila hated to admit it, but Ronicus was right. His logic just blew her whole argument away.

"I… I don't know. Maybe you're right."

Suddenly the chanting grew in intensity. The two teens turned around to see what was going on. Kimila already knew however, for she had seen this before. It was time for the coup de grace. The final act, the finishing blow. The leader of the druids produced a ceremonial dagger from its sheath from his waist and walked up to the first Roman soldier. The legionnaire struggled at his bonds but to no avail. The druid slashed open his throat, much to the delight of the onlookers. He continued to go down the line, slicing open each prisoners throat before moving on to the next one.

It was too much for Ronicus, who sank to his knees.

"Why…" He wondered to no one in particular.

Kimila knelt down beside him and embraced him in a warm hug.

"Just don't watch Ronicus. It will all be over soon." She said soothingly.

"This is murder!" He screamed at the druids, but they apparently weren't listening.

Kimila's heart went out to Ronicus, who was obviously in a lot of pain right now. She could understand it. His culture was not used to such acts, while this was the norm for her. But despite this she still despised the practice of human sacrifice. One thing that did make her feel better was that she actually managed to save a life. And she was thankful that she did. Ronicus was turning out to be a true friend to her, despite the fact that she had only known him for two weeks. He was nice, funny, caring, considerate, and always polite to those he served even when they treated him harshly. She only hoped that soon they would see the qualities that she already knew he possessed.

After about ten minutes the worst of it was over. The chanting continued as fifty dead bodies stood there tied to the stakes. Ronicus looked up to see them hanging there by their bonds, for they were no longer able to stand on their own. He looked over at Kimila, who had her own look of regret and sadness in her eyes. He hugged her with all of his might.

"Thank you… thank you for saving me." He said.

"No big…" She said softly as she returned the hug.

"No. Very big. I should have been up there. It's only because you're such a good person that I wasn't a part of that."

"You're a good person too Ronicus." She told him. "It's just that you got caught up in this stupid war. You went into it for all the right reasons, but in the end there is war claims us all as victims. I'm just happy I was able to save someone as kind as you. Maybe some day you will be able to return to Rome."

"Yeah… maybe."

The two teens could no longer bear the sight of the dead Romans, so they walked back to Kimila's lodging. That was where Ronicus was staying now. He was a servant in their household, and it was his job to do all of the cooking and cleaning. He figured he might as well get started on today's work. Maybe that would help take his mind off what he had just seen. He hoped that would be the case.

XXXXXXXXXX

Night fell upon the village as Ronicus was preparing dinner for the royal family. Using fresh meat they had obtained from another hunt, he was displaying one of his only true talents, cooking.

"It smells delicious." Kimila's mother said.

"Thanks Ana." Ronicus replied.

"Ronicus, about what you saw earlier today…"

"I know I know. It's your cultures' way to communicate with your gods. It may not seem right to me, but who am I to judge?"

"You're a very understanding young man Ronicus." She told him. "No wonder Kimila decided to spare your life."

"Yeah, I'm very grateful her father agreed to do it."

"I'm surprised he did. It's not every day that you see the king of Britannia spare the life of one of its invaders."

Suddenly they heard screaming from outside.

"What was that?" Ana wondered.

More screaming, this time with what were clearly war cries.

"What the heck is going on out there?" Ronicus wondered aloud.

That was when Kimila came bursting through the door.

"We're under attack!"

"By who?" Ana asked.

"I don't know! They aren't Romans though!"

Ronicus feared he knew the answer. Though he had only heard stories and rumors about Julius Caesar, he knew that the man was a political animal. He could use diplomacy in war just as effectively as a sword. And if there were not Romans attacking, then there was only one explanation.

"It's your own people…" He told Kimila and Ana.

"What!" They screamed in unison.

Kimila immediately dragged Ron away from his cooking and to where the weapons were stored. She grabbed a sword and tossed it to him before grabbing her own spear.

"Come on Ronicus, we have to do something."

"Right behind you Kimila."

The two teens ran outside and saw what was going on. There were hundreds of men descending upon the village. Armed with an assortment of weapons and wearing blue war paint, it was clear to Kimila who was responsible for the attack.

"Drakkarius…" She muttered.

The traitorous Britons were also carrying torches, which they were throwing upon the straw roofs of the huts with glee. Kimila looked on with a horrified expression as she realized that they were going to burn and sack the village. She had to do something, she had to fight back.

She saw people fighting all around her. The men and women of the village were putting up a desperate defense against the attackers. But it was no use, there were simply too many of them. She saw the non-combatant women trying to flee the scene with their children, but they were being ridden down by Drakkarius' cavalry and either captured or slain right there. The sight made Kimila sick.

One of the warriors on horseback decided that Kimila would be an ideal target and began to charge at her. As the man galloped closer he raised his axe to strike down the young woman, but Kimila sidestepped the charging steed at the last possible moment as she thrust her spear up and into the side of the rider. The man fell from his horse and hit the ground where he rolled in pain. Kimila walked up to him and knelt down beside him.

"What's going on!" She demanded. "Why is Drakkarius doing this!"

The rider coughed up blood as he smiled evilly at her.

"Drakkarius will be king! He has promised all of us wealth and prosperity if we fight for him. Jaimus will die."

Kimila felt her blood begin to boil when she heard the last statement from the traitor. If their goal was to kill her father and install Drakkarius as the new king, then that meant…

She looked back at her house and saw that it was up in flames. She saw four men pour out of it, dragging her father and mother along with them. That was when one of the men produced a long sword from its sheath and stuck it straight into the stomach of her father.

"No!" Kimila screamed as she ran over to where the men were.

But before she could get there they had done the same to her mother. Kimila fought back tears as she charged the group of men who had just slain her parents.

Her first victim was never expecting the attack, as his back was turned to her the entire time. He was rewarded with a spear through his back for his efforts. The other three men now realized the threat she posed and drew their weapons.

One of the men swung his axe at her head, but she deflected the blow with the haft of her spear. She twirled her weapon around and stuck the tip of it into the mans gut, where it remained for a moment as she twisted it around inside of him. The man collapsed to the ground in pain as Kimila withdrew her spear from him.

It was now a two on one affair. Kimila didn't like those odds, but it didn't matter to her. She would have her vengeance on those who had killed her parents.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ronicus watched as Kimila ran off to fight a group of men before he was attacked himself. Armed only with a sword, he almost felt naked without a broad shield to defend himself with. That's what he had trained with for the past few months after all. But he supposed this would just have to do.

One of the barbarians stabbed at him with his sword, but he was able to parry the attack. But the barbarian would not relent, and sent blow after blow at the young legionnaire. Ronicus desperately fought off the attacks with his sword as he realized that he had to end this fight and go help Kimila.

Ronicus ducked under the next swing from his attacker and delivered a slash of his own into the abdomen of the barbarian. His opponent reeled backwards in pain before he was stabbed through the chest.

With his opponent dispatched, Ronicus saw that Kimila was now only facing down two opponents. Despite the fact that she had already taken down two men, he wasn't so sure how much longer she would be able to hold off multiple assailants. He raced off in her direction to help her out the best he could.

XXXXXXXXXX

Kimila was knocked to her back as she continued to fight against the remaining two assailants who had killed her parents. She had been lucky with the first two of them she had killed, as she had caught them by surprise. But now the two Britons were working as a team against her. There was no respite from the two.

One of the two brought his sword down where Kimila lay, but she was able to roll out of the way. Standing up and grabbing her spear, she thrust it one of the men, but her attack was blocked by his shield. Frustration was beginning to grow within her. She had to end this duel quickly and help out the rest of her people. She was one of the greatest warriors in her tribe, and she could not waste time against two opponents such as this. But despite the fact that she was a great warrior, the toll of fighting two men at once was beginning to take its toll on her.

The other warrior she was fighting swung his axe in a deadly arc at her head, but she managed to duck the blow before kicking the man in the groin, sending him to his hands and knees. But in this time she had managed to forget about the other man. She turned around to see him with his sword poised to strike her down.

But the blow never came.

Instead she saw a sword emerge from the mans stomach. As the man sank to his knees she saw Ronicus standing behind him, his hand holding onto the sword which had saved her life.

Kimila nodded her thanks to him as she turned back around and sent her spear tip into the back of the man who she had just kicked down.

Looking around Kimila saw that the people of her tribe were being overwhelmed. Drakkarius just had too many warriors. Even the great Sheko was being overwhelmed, facing off against three of the traitors at once.

"We have to help Sheko." Kimila said to Ronicus.

"I thought you two hate each other." Ronicus replied.

"That doesn't mean she isn't part of the tribe. She's one of us Ronicus."

"Okay, right behind you Kimila."

The two teens raced off to where Sheko was currently fending off three warriors at once. Kimila brought the butt of her spear down hard on one of the man's heads, sending him crashing to the ground in pain. Ronicus on the other hand drove his sword through the back of another one of the warriors, eliminating him from the battle as well.

Now free from the three on one battle, Sheko was easily able to dispatch the last warrior with her sword. She then turned to face Kimila, a wolfish grin spread on her face.

"Thanks a lot princess." She said.

"No big Sheko. We may have our differences at times, but we're still both loyal Britons."

"No stupid, thanks for saving me from the people of our own tribe. Don't you get it? You just killed the people who were on your side."

"What…"

Sheko didn't waste another moment before she attacked Kimila, her sword dancing through the defenses of Kimila and wounding her in the arm. Kimila stumbled backwards, her eyes wide in shock as her brain tried to contemplate what Sheko had just said. She had killed her own people… three of them.

Sheko once more went on the offensive and drove her sword towards the chest of her adversary, but Kimila was able to parry the attack with her spear. Realizing now that she had been betrayed, Kimila jabbed her weapon at Sheko, but the attack was deflected harmlessly by the pale-skinned woman.

The two opponents circled each other now, realizing that it would take a lot more than simple attacks to penetrate the others defenses. That was when Sheko took a step back and began to laugh. She held her sword up in victory, despite the fact that she had not won a thing.

Kimila's face was the epitome of anger as she watched her opponent's arrogance. How dare she think the fight was over just because she had wounded her. Kimila still had a lot of fight left in her, and she was not about to give up just because of a simple flesh wound. That was when Sheko spoke to her.

"Look around you Kimila. This battle is over."

Kimila did indeed look around and saw the horrifying truth. Men in blue war paint were now in complete control of the village. All resistance had been utterly crushed. To make matters worse, she saw a column of Roman soldiers marching down the road and making their way towards the village.

That was when it occurred to Ronicus that he could escape. His own people were coming, and he could easily be rescued from his barbarian captivity. But on the other hand, part of him did not want to go back. He had made a friend in Kimila, and was not about to abandon her in her time of need. He knew what would happen to her if she was caught out there alone. No, he would stay with her. Hopefully when things settled down he would be able to go back to his camp with Kimila, and she would not be treated too harshly by his men.

"Kimila!" Ron yelled as he ran towards her. "We have to get out of here!"

"No!" She screamed. "These traitors must be punished!"

"Look around you! We can't win! We have to make a run for it, and fight again another day!"

Sadly Kimila knew that he was right. It may have been honorable to die in glorious combat against overwhelming odds, but it was not the smartest of moves. Maybe he was right. To fight again another day, once word of Drakkarius' treachery had spread. She would be back, and then she would finish off Sheko.

"Okay. Let's move."

The two teens raced off towards the edge of the town where it met the forest. They figured they could hide in there for a few days before making it back to one of the other towns and tell them what had happened. Then they would muster an army and defeat both Drakkarius and the Romans.

"That's right Kimila!" Sheko shouted after them. "You had better run!"

But at this moment Kimila didn't care about Sheko. There was so much her mind was still trying to process. Her parents, Drakkarius, the pillaging of her village… it was all too much for her to handle.

The two continued running for a good half hour before their legs began to get tired. Realizing that there was no one behind them, they decided to take a quick rest before they continued their journey to the next town.

Kimila slumped down against a tree, her face utterly void of emotion. This look did not go unnoticed by Ronicus.

"Kimila…" He began, but was cut off.

"They killed them! They killed them all!"

"I know. I'm so sorry…"

"And my parents. I saw… I saw them die." She said as tears slowly crept down her face.

Ronicus sat down beside her and put his arm around her. Appreciating the comfort that his strong arms were providing, Kimila buried her tear-soaked face into his shoulder and began to cry. He did his best to sooth her, but really what was there that he could say? Her parents were dead. Her home was razed to the ground. Her people were slain. At the moment, there was nothing he could do for her but provide what comfort he could just by being there with her.

She cried for about ten minutes as Ron sat with her rubbing her back, trying his best to comfort her. She raised her head to look into his eyes before speaking to him.

"Thank you Ronicus… you saved my life twice back there."

"Twice?" He asked. "I only recall one time."

"Nope. Twice. The first was when you saved me from the warrior who was about to kill me. The second was when you convinced me to run."

"Look, I know that's not what you wanted but-"

"But nothing Ronicus. You were right. My mind was clouded back there. I had nothing but revenge on my mind, and I gladly would have died fighting against those traitors. But now I see there is a better way. I will have my vengeance, and live to tell the tale."

"Well, consider it my way of repaying you for saving my life however many times you did. And for sparing it on the battlefield."

Kimila smiled through her tears at him. Now they were even, she mused. But she was sure that he had not saved her life just to even the score. No, that was not the type of man Ronicus was. Over the past couple of weeks that she had gotten to know him, she had found out that he was a very nice and considerate person. He had done what he had today out of the goodness of his heart, not because he felt as if he owed her something.

She laid her head against his shoulder as the two teens stared up at the forest canopy. Night had fallen upon Britannia now, and the two were exhausted. It only took a couple of minutes for Kimila to fall asleep next to him, with Ronicus doing the same soon after.


	6. Chapter 6

Authors Note: Thanks again to everyone who is reading this story. Special thanks go out to screaming phoenix, OceanicLegend, captainkodak1, Stubbs101, Comet Moon, CajunBear73, Donteatacowman, Mr.Wizard, Some1outthere, Wanderer3, Mengsk, and Muzzlehatch for reviewing.

Disclaimer: I do now own Kim Possible.

XXXXXXXXXX

Legionnaires marched along the roads in neat columns as Drakkarius and Caesar looked onward, each with a smile on their face. But each man had their own reason for having the grins plastered on their faces. Drakkarius because he was the new King of Britannia. His coup de tat had been a complete success. He now ruled the entire southern portion of the island. And thanks to his new found ally in the Romans, there was no chance that the still loyal members of Briton's tribes would be able to stop him.

It had taken two weeks time to set everything up, but it was done. Troops were strategically placed in and around every major settlement in Britannia in preparation to wipe out all possible opposition. He had done just that, along with a newly launched Roman offensive to the interior of the island.

Caesar on the other hand was smiling because everything was going according to plan. His opposition had been completely annihilated. Tens of thousands of Britons were either dead or slaves of his mighty army. Soon enough they would be sent back to Sicilia to work on the massive wheat plantations that dotted the Mediterranean island. But there was more work yet to be done. His conquest was not complete. But before the day was finished, the process would begin.

"I told you it would work, Caesar. Now I rule Britannia, and of course, we will pay the ten percent tax to Rome as we agreed."

Caesar looked over at Drakkarius with a smile on his face.

"No, your people will be paying a fifty percent tax."

A confused expression appeared on the barbarian's face.

"What? But we agreed to ten percent. What is the meaning of this?"

"The meaning is this. Britannia is now a province of the Roman Republic."

"This is an outrage!" Drakkarius cried out. "Just who do you think you are anyway, Caesar?"

Caesar looked to his lieutenant Cassius, and gave him a signal that he had been waiting for the past two weeks.

"For the glory of Rome, kill the barbarians!" He shouted.

The legionnaires that formed Caesars bodyguard each drew their gladius and shoved it into the nearest Briton warrior they could find. In time, Drakkarius' entire retinue lay on the ground either mortally wounded or already dead. A look of horror spread on Drakkarius' face as he turned his head from side to side to witness the carnage that had just taken place.

Cassius then took the opportunity to throw Drakkarius off his horse, who landed unceremoniously on the grass below. A pair of legionnaires walked up behind him and each grabbed an arm and held him on his knees as Caesar dismounted his horse and walked up the blue-skinned warlord.

The Roman general slugged Drakkarius in the face, earning a cry of pain from the Briton.

"You want to know who I am, barbarian?" Caesar asked him. "I am Gaius Julius Caesar, Consul of the Roman Republic. I am your better, your superior, and your master. Everything that has taken place has been done according to my plan. You are nothing but a pawn."

Drakkarius was utterly speechless.

"And now," Caesar continued. "Roman forces all across the island are butchering and enslaving your warriors. I would like to personally thank you for your assistance in bringing down this joke you call a civilization. Britannia is mine."

With that, Caesar turned to Cassius.

"Make sure that the king here is treated properly. And by that, I mean put him in chains. I want him alive for my triumph back in Rome."

"Yes sir." Cassius said.

Caesar then turned to the men of his bodyguard with a smile on his face.

"All hail the King of Britannia!" He mocked.

Laughter erupted from all of the men around him, except one. Drakkarius had tears in his eyes as he realized what he had done. He had doomed his people through his quest for power. Now there was no one left to stop the Romans from conquering Britannia.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ronicus awoke to the sound of birds chirping. He opened up his sleepy eyes and looked up at the forest canopy just as he had before he had fallen asleep the night before. It was a strangely beautiful sight. Normally he was not one to admire nature, but from what he had seen Britannia was a truly beautiful country.

He also noticed the girl beside him.

Kimila was currently cuddled up next to him with her arm around his chest. He didn't so much mind it, he actually enjoyed it. It was a feeling that he had never experienced before. He had not had much time for romance back in his days in Rome, and he was far too young for such things back when he still lived in Judea.

But now he was having feelings that he had never felt before. They made his heart race, and sweat form on his brow. Were those feelings for her? He believed they were. And why not, she had a lot going for her after all. She was utterly beautiful, he knew that much. Her red hair was completely foreign and exotic to him, for where he came from pretty much every female had black hair. She also had a kind heart, which was first shown when she protected him against the harsh treatment of her own people. She then had decided to save him after only knowing him for a few minutes. But he must have made a pretty good impression in those few minutes, he mused.

He silently watched her sleep as he pondered these things. He wondered if she felt the same about him. Probably not, he sighed. He then thought about the more important things. Like where were they going to go? Ronicus had no idea about the lay of the land, he was hoping that Kimila would know something. There was also the fact that somewhere there were bands of Drakkarius' men roaming around searching for anyone who might have escaped their wrath.

Kimila stirred slightly before opening her eyes. They were still a bit red from the amount of crying she had done last night. Ronicus truly felt sorry for her. She had lost everything in one evening. Even his own pain could not compare to what she must have been going through at the moment.

She now noticed that he was watching her, and turned to look at him.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing. Just watching you sleep." He said.

"Oh."

"Good morning."

"Good morning to you too."

"How are you doing after… you know."

"It hurts Ronicus. It really does." She admitted. "But I know that somehow, someway, I'm going to get back at them for what they did. I just have to."

Ronicus didn't doubt for a second the words of hers. She was as strong willed a person as he had ever met. If there was anyone who could do anything, it was Kimila.

"I'm so sorry for what happened Kimila." He was as he wrapped her in a warm hug.

Kimila returned the embrace just as tightly as she once more rested her head on his shoulder. There was something about Ronicus that was very soothing to her. There was something about him that seemed to tell her that everything would be okay as long as he was by her side. She didn't quite know what to make of those feelings, but at the moment she didn't so much care. She was hurting and he was there to comfort her. He was turning out to be a true friend. They remained that way for a couple of minutes, just enjoying each others company in each others arms before Kimila asked a question that had been on Ronicus' mind ever since he had woken up.

"So, are you hungry?" She asked.

"Well… a little." He lied.

Right after he said that his stomach growled loudly, causing Kimila to giggle.

"Are you sure it's just a little? Your stomach says otherwise."

"Okay, maybe a lot." He admitted.

"No big. The forests of Britannia are loaded with fruit trees. Come on let's go."

The two teens stood up and began walking around the forest in search of a tree which bore fruit. Ronicus pointed out one tree, which had pears growing from it. Kimila agreed with his choice and followed him. Both teens picked a number of the fruits before they sat down next to the trunk or a rather large oak tree.

"These are delicious." He said as he took another bite from the sweet fruit.

"Yup." Kim agreed. "It's a good thing that tree wasn't a sacred one."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there are certain trees, even entire groves which are sacred. They are sites of worship, dedicated to the gods."

"Oh."

"You still disagree with all of that stuff, don't you Ronicus?"

"Well yeah, how can't I? I was taught something completely different from you. But I've also been taught to respect other people and their cultures, so I'm not going to judge you for being different from me."

"Same here. The idea of just one god in control of everything just sounds so weird."

"So what's it like for your culture?"

"Well, there is a god of the sky, of the lakes, of rain, of healing, and so on. What about yours?"

"Well in my culture, there is one God of everything. He controls everything. That's pretty much it."

"It's strange that two people who are from such different cultures could become friends like we are." Kimila said.

"Yeah." Ronicus agreed.

The two continued to eat and chat about anything that came to mind. After about an hour Kimila stood up and stretched her legs. Ronicus did the same, as he knew that they would probably be on the move soon.

"I think it's time to get going." Kimila said. "We need to get to the nearest village and tell them what's happened."

Ronicus agreed and the two began walking. Thankfully Kimila did know the land very well, and knew exactly where she was going. The next town was not very far away, perhaps just a half hour walk. But as the two neared closer to where the town was, they noticed a thick black smoke rising up from it. It certainly did not bode well.

"What's going on?" Ronicus wondered aloud.

"This is so not good." Kimila said. "Come on let's go."

The two teens began to sprint towards the town, and discovered to their horror what had happened. Dead bodies lay all around, both those with blue war paint and without. Then they saw who must have perpetrated the heinous crime. All around there were Roman legionnaires talking, drinking, and abusing those who were still alive.

"Look over there!" One of the legionnaires shouted. "More barbarians!"

The legionnaires looked over to where Kimila and Ronicus stood and began to walk over towards them.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" A centurion asked. "A deserter and a barbarian together?"

The centurion naturally assumed Ronicus was a deserter because of the clothes he was garbed in. He still clearly looked like a legionnaire, but without the armor or equipment. Kimila on the other hand was dressed as any other Briton would be, complete in her cloths and furs. They were truly an odd sight to behold.

"No no man, I'm not an deserter." Ronicus clarified. "I was captured, then escaped during the attack on the village last night."

The centurion looked at him for a moment before a smile spread on his face. He walked over and patted Ronicus on the back.

"Well then it's good to have you back soldier!" He said. "And I see that you've brought a slave with you. Well done."

"Oh no she's not a slave. She's my friend."

The legionnaires began to laugh at what Ronicus had just said.

"That's a good one!" The centurion said. "Alright, bind the hands of this barbarian whore and get her out of my sight.

He grabbed Kimila's shoulder, but Ronicus quickly slapped it away.

"Don't touch her." He said sternly.

"What are you doing soldier? Don't tell me you're actually defending this piece of scum." He said as he once more tried to grab Kimila.

This time Ronicus drew his sword and pointed it at the centurion's chest.

"I said, don't touch her." He repeated.

A look of anger spread across the features of the centurion, as his men began to move forward and surround the two teens in a semi circle.

"Well boys, looks like we have a traitor among our ranks." He said as the legionnaires around him drew their swords and pointed them at the teens.

Ronicus took a step back and put his hands in the air.

"Look sir, I don't want any trouble. I'm just trying to find my way back to the VIII Legion's camp."

More laughter erupted from the legionnaires around him.

"The VIII Legion?" The centurion asked. "Those cowards were decimated weeks ago! It's no surprise to me that scum like you is from that legion.

"Decimated?" Ronicus said with a look of horror on his face.

"Yup. One in ten, dead. I guess you're lucky you got captured, or else you might have been among them."

Ronicus' mind immediately turned to Felix and the rest of the friends he had made in the legion. He didn't know what their fate would be. The worst case scenario would be that they were dead of course. And lately, Ron wasn't much in the mood for best case scenarios. They had been few and far between ever since he had stepped foot on this island.

"Anyway…" The centurion continued. "Antonius, bind their hands and take them to where the rest of the slaves are being prepared to march back to the landing site."

"Yes sir."

Before Ronicus knew it, both him and Kimila were set upon by the group of legionnaires. They were outnumbered at least five to one, and they knew they didn't stand a chance against that number of trained killing machines. Rather, they just dropped their weapons and surrendered, hoping for the best. At least they were alive, and at least they were together. Besides, it's not as if things could get much worse, could they?

XXXXXXXXXX

It got worse. First there was the long march back to the coast of Britannia. Then there was crossing the channel back to Gaul. And then there was the journey from Gaul back to Italia. Each leg of the journey brought about more pain and suffering from Kimila and Ronicus.

Crossing the Alps was perhaps the worst part of the journey. They were not dressed for the bitter cold that came with the terrain. They were still dressed in their blood-stained clothes that they had been wearing for weeks now. At night they had to huddle together for warmth when they tried to sleep, but that sleep came very elusively.

At first Ronicus had tried to get them off the hook by telling them that he was a legionnaire. But no one seemed to believe him. They said he was just a barbarian wearing a Roman's clothes. After all, he did have blonde hair, which was something very out of the ordinary for a Roman citizen to have. On the other hand, there were plenty of blonde Britons.

Ronicus was also missing one other key part of being a legionnaire. The mark of the legion, the tattoo on his left arm. Legionnaires were sometimes tattooed with the letters S P Q R on their left shoulder, which stood for "The Senate and the People of Rome". But due to Ronicus' Jewish heritage, he had refused the tattoo. At the time no one had seemed to care, but now it was coming back to bite him. Without the tattoo no one would believe that he was truly a part of the legions. He had planned on using the fact that he was a legionnaire to secure freedom for himself and Kimila, but it was not to be.

And now there they stood, ready to be sold as slaves to the highest bidder. Ronicus thought back to how highly he had fallen. At one time he had been the son of a wealthy silk trader. Then he had been a successful legionnaire. But now what was he? He was something that he had always feared to be, a slave. He had read in The Torah about the Jews bondage in Egypt. He had promised himself that he would never let himself fall to such a place. But now here he was, a slave.

Kimila was not pleased either. Freedom was something she had always valued highly. She was a free spirit, and the thought of being a slave for the rest of her life made her sick. But what else could she do? Kill herself? No, she would fight. Somehow, some way, she would fight this and be free again. She was determined to do so. After all, she always claimed that she could do anything. Now was the perfect time to practice her motto.

The slave master took a step up to the podium. All behind him were a number of slaves, both new and old, who were currently on display for the potential buyers.

Kimila looked around at the other people who were doomed to the same fate as her. That was when she recognized a face down the line.

"Bonica?" She gasped.

Bonica raised her head and looked around for the person who had called her name. She saw Kimila and her eyes widened.

"Kimila!" She whispered as loudly as she could.

"How long have you been here?"

"A few days now. Seems no one wants to buy me because of my 'attitude'. As if I have an attitude."

Kimila laughed for the first time in many weeks.

"Oh Bonica, I always knew that attitude of yours would get you in trouble someday."

"And you won't believe who else is here…" Bonica said with disgust as she pointed over to her left.

That was when Kimila saw the pale form of Sheko. Apparently she had been taken as a slave too.

"What happened?" Kimila asked. "I thought she was working with the Romans?"

"Yeah, turned out it was a double cross. The Romans turned on the traitors as soon as the job was done."

"Serves them right."

"Quiet!" The slave master finally said.

"How about _you _be quiet." Bonica bit back.

"Why you little…"

The slave master went over and slapped Bonica across the face. Bonica rose up from her seat, but was immediately set upon by two legionnaires with their swords. She sat back down quietly, as the slave master began his presentation.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen of Rome. I have with me tonight the finest stock of slaves you will ever see. Take this man for example." He said as he pointed to Ronicus.

One of the legionnaires shoved him forward, where Ronicus stumbled into center stage.

"This man claims to have once been a legionnaire. Either way, he is a strong young man capable of doing hard labor, or whatever you would ask from him. The bidding will begin at a thousand denarii."

A few potential bidders raised their hands, but soon all were put down when one potential bidder wearing a cape raised his voice.

"Five thousand denarii for the boy and the feisty brunette." He said.

The gasps of the people in the audience told the whole story. That would be at least thirty five hundred denarii more than the minimum price for the two slaves together.

"Sold to the man in the cape." The slave master said.

The legionnaires forced Ronicus and Bonica along with their new master, as Kimila looked on in horror.

"Ronicus!" She cried out.

Ronicus could do nothing but look back at her with a look of regret on his eyes. He had never gotten the chance to tell her how he felt about her. Their bond had grown even stronger in the past few weeks during their journey from Britannia to Italia, as had his love for her.

A single tear slid down Kimila's face as she watched Ronicus disappear into the distance. This was just another thing that had been taken from her… just like everything else. Her family, her home, her life, and now the only thing she had left, her friends… and crush.


	7. Chapter 7

Authors Note: Thanks go out to screaming phoenix, Mr. Wizard, RSfan, OceanicLegend, Donteatacowman, Mengsk, Muzzlehatch, Comet Moon, Some1outthere, CajunBear73, Stubbs101, captainkodak1, and spedclass for reviewing. Also a big thank you goes out to everyone else who is reading. All of you are the reason I write.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kim Possible.

XXXXXXXXXX

Home.

He was now back in Rome. So why didn't it feel much like a homecoming? Perhaps it was because his hands were bound in front of him. Perhaps because the past few weeks he had been treated like a dog, or worse. Perhaps it was because he was now a slave. All in all it did not feel very much like he was home.

Ronicus continued to walk with the rest of the caravan. There were dozens of fellow slaves marching along beside him, along with a number of caged exotic animals from all around the world. Where his destination was, he couldn't say. His life was no longer in his control, so it was not up to him to where he was going. One thing was for certain though; it was not the same place Kimila was. He missed her already. It seems that ever since he had left Judea his life had gone from bad to worse. He had once been wealthy, only to be reduced to a poor man. He had once been a mighty legionnaire, only to be reduced to a slave. He had once had friends, only to become friendless. Life was truly not treating him well.

Only a few days before, he had been bought by a wealthy Roman citizen named Spurius. What or who he was, Ronicus could not say. He looked very prestigious by the way he dressed and spoke. Clearly he was a patrician. What exactly the mans intentions were with the many slaves that he had bought, Ronicus did not know. Surely he must have a gigantic plantation if he were to need this many slaves to work on it.

He continued to march along, all the while looking suspiciously at the guards surrounding the caravan. He then noticed a young dark skinned boy that had sidled up beside him.

"So, how did they get you?" The boy asked.

"They got me in Britannia." Ronicus answered. "I was once a legionnaire. I sort of drew my sword at a centurion and threatened him."

"Wow. So you're a traitor?"

"I'm not a traitor. I was just protecting someone I cared about."

"Oh. My name's Wadi by the way."

"Wadi… nice to meet you. I'm Ronicus. Where are you from?"

"Numidia originally. But I went to Sicilia to work on one of the plantations as a free man. Then there was a slave revolt, and the Romans were convinced that I was part of it."

"Ouch man. That's rough."

"Yeah, but what can you do about it."

"Nothing I guess. We're all given our lots in life, and we just have to live them out the best we can."

"Wow. You're pretty wise Ronicus."

Ronicus began to laugh, which earned him a confused look from Wadi.

"What's so funny?" The boy asked.

"Oh nothing. That's just the first time anyone has ever referred to me as wise. I'm not exactly known for being the sharpest sword in the sheath."

The last comment made Wadi laugh a bit as well.

"I'm sure that's not true. But if anything, you are funny at least."

"Yeah well, laughter is what gets you through the tough times in life. Sort of like what we're going through right now."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

"So do you know where we're headed to Wadi?" Ronicus asked.

"Yeah. We're headed for Capua."

"Well, at least it's not that far I suppose. Probably only two days march from Rome."

"That's good. I can't take anymore of this walking. How do you stand it?"

Ronicus thought back to his training as a legionnaire. All of the marching he had done every day he once thought was pointless was beginning to pay off. He was in excellent shape, and his body was used to the long marches. It had meaning after all, to build endurance. Ronicus silently took back all of the insults he had called centurion Barkinian in his mind.

"Well Wadi, being in the legions helps you with this kind of stuff." He told the boy. "We used to march five miles a day back in training. So I guess I'm used to the long walks."

"Oh."

"By the way, who is this guy that bought us? What does he intend to do with so many slaves?"

Wadi looked at Ronicus with a sorrowful expression in his eyes.

"You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"That we're all going to die."

"Die!?" Ronicus shouted. "Why would he buy us if he's just going to kill us?"

"He's not going to be the one to kill us. We're going to kill each other."

Finally it made sense to Ronicus. During his time in Rome, he had heard stories of the gladiatorial events in the colosseums. They had been truly the most brutal and barbaric sports he had ever heard of. He had never seen a show in person, nor did he want to. But now it appeared he would not have a choice. He could be becoming one of the warriors who would fight often to the death in front of thousands of people.

So this was his fate. This was how he was going to die, in the sandy pits of the colosseum, against another desperate man like himself. It did not sound like the most appealing of options to him. But on the other hand, he had no choice. He could try to make a run for it, but he would not get very far before he was brought down by one of the guards, and probably killed on the spot for trying to escape.

A sudden thought crossed his mind. There were women among the caravan of prisoners.

"Wadi, are the women going to fight too?"

"Yes."

"Well, this tanks." Ronicus said to himself.

XXXXXXXXXX

Days passed by since Ronicus and Bonica had been sold. Kimila was feeling very lonely. At least on the long march from Britannia back to Italia she had had someone to talk to. Now she was all alone. Worse still, she was in very close quarters with someone she truly despised, Sheko. The traitorous woman sent hateful glares every once in a while in her direction, but the two never made conversation with each other. There was nothing for them to say after all. Even when they had been in the same tribe they had hated each other. And now that Sheko was one of the people who had helped kill her parents, Kimila despised her with a passion.

Suddenly a guard entered the room and looked around. Spotting the girl with red hair, he went over to her and urged her to stand up.

"You." He said pointing at Kimila. "You've been bought. Get moving. You too." He said as he pointed at Sheko.

"You mean, by the same person?" Kimila asked him.

"Yes, by Flavius Quentin." He answered.

"Great."

The guard urged them out of their cells and into the daylight. There Kimila saw the man who had just bought them. He was a tall and handsome man, around thirty years old. But despite this, Kimila did not find him the least bit attractive. No, he was her master now, and she could not have any kind of feelings for him other than contempt. The man walked forward and inspected his newly acquired slaves before he spoke to them.

"You two are my new house slaves." He told them plainly. "Any attempts to escape will be met with the harshest punishment possible. Do I make myself clear?"

Neither Kimila or Sheko answered him, and instead sent hateful glares burning into his eyes. This did not unnerve the man however, or even anger him. It only made him smile.

"I'll take that as a yes." He said. "From now on you will refer to me as master, and nothing else. Failure to do so will result in yet more punishment."

Kimila and Sheko were then forced forward by a pair of Flavius' personal guards. He would be taking them back to Rome with him, where they would be serving him for the rest of their lives. Kimila wanted to cry, but just couldn't bring herself to do it for two reasons. The first was that she refused to let Sheko see any sign of weakness from her. She would deny her hated enemy anything she could to use as a weapon.

The second was, she had already cried past her limit ever since Ronicus had been taken from her.

XXXXXXXXXX

So this was the colosseum. Ronicus was honestly impressed.

The building was massive, able to seat around twenty thousand spectators total. Rumor was that there were plans to build an even greater colosseum in Rome sometime in the future. Too bad Ronicus would never be able to see it. His fate was sealed as far as he was concerned. Normally he was quite the positive individual, always able to look at things with the glass half full. But it was no longer the case. With all of the misfortune that had fallen upon him in the past weeks, he could no longer look at things in a positive light. Rather, he was now bitter towards life.

Ronicus stood in the slaves chambers of the colossuem where the gladiators prepared for combat. All around him there were weapons, shields, and armor on racks ready to by donned by the slave-warriors. He walked among the racks, looking for something that would be suitable for him.

The first thing that caught his eye was an old battered piece of leather armor to be worn on the torso. Sure, it wasn't the scale-mail of the legionnaires, but it would just have to do. Besides, it looked better than the other stuff that was around. The chain-mail armor had several holes in it, which did not appeal to Ronicus.

Then he caught something which almost took his breath away. A gladius. It was the only one on all of the racks, so he quickly picked it up. It was the only weapon he had experience with after all, so it was essential that he use it in order to have the best chance of survival. Finally he saw an old circular wooden shield. Sure, it wasn't the best shield he had ever seen, nor was it like the one he had used back in his time in the legions. But it was there for him, and that was all that mattered.

He swung the sword a few times in the air to test its balance and was pleased with the results. This would be his weapon, in which he took lives and protected his own. It reminded him of his own sword he used to own back when he was a legionnaire. How he missed those days of freedom. They had been directly responsible for him meeting Kimila. He wouldn't change a thing if he could go back in time when it came to his time spent in the military. He would go through all of the pain and even getting captured again, just so he could be with her.

He thought back to Felix as well. He wondered how he was doing, or even if he was still alive. After all, his legion had been the victim of decimation. Ronicus hoped with all of his might that his friend was not dead. Then there was his new friend Wadi. Luckily for him, the boy had been deemed too young to fight by the slave owner. He was now charged with serving food and drinks to the owner and his entourage with they watched the gladiatorial games.

As he was thinking about these things, one of the guards entered the room to announce the next match.

"Ronicus!" He called out.

Ronicus stepped forward to reveal himself.

"You will be facing Vecorix. Prepare yourself to die the best way you can, you will be entering the arena in two minutes."

Ronicus had faced death in the face several times before, but never like this. Before it was war, where anything could happen. A man could die honorably on the battlefield with his comrades, knowing that he was fighting for something greater than himself. But this was not that. This was pointless, bloody entertainment for the masses. For the first time since he had landed on Britannia, Ronicus was afraid. He called out to his God for aid, once more from The Book of Psalms.

"Hearken, O LORD to my prayer and attend to the sound of my pleading. In the day of my distress I call upon you, for you will answer me."

Two minutes seemed to pass by painfully slow as Ronicus waited to be called out to the center of the colosseum. But eventually the time had come.

"Ronicus and Vecorix, you're up."

The two warriors made their way to the entrance and stepped out onto the sands of the interior of the colosseum. The hot scorching sun hit him and he shielded his eyes from the light. Looking around the arena, he saw that thousands of people were in attendance to see him and his opponent battle. Not only him, he mused, but everyone who had fought before him, and those who would after him. He could already see blood stains on the sand of the arena floor from those who had died before him. His felt a wave a nausea hit him as he realized that this would perhaps be his last day on earth.

His opponent on the other hand looked very calm. He was also armed with a sword and round shield. Like Ronicus he had blonde hair, but the Gallic man's hair was shoulder length and he also sported a beard.

"Ladies and gentleman." A voice from somewhere in the crowd said. "It is my pleasure to introduce to you your next two combatants. May I present to you, Ronicus the Legionnaire, and Vecorix of Gaul!"

The crowd roared in anticipation for the upcoming fight. Despite how much blood they had seen spilled already, they could not get enough. Capua was a large city like Rome, although Rome did not have a colosseum. The senate had refused to let such barbaric games be hosted in their city, so gladiatorial games were limited to the outlying cities in Italia and the provinces.

Ronicus looked at his opponent, and the two began circling each other in preparation for the upcoming fight. He gripped his gladius hard in his right hand as he looked into the eyes of his opponent. Like Ronicus, the man was a slave and being forced to fight against his will. But that did not mean that he would go lightly on him just because they were in the same boat. No, this was a battle for survival. The winner would live, and the loser would die. It was that simple.

Ronicus decided that it would be best to go on the offensive. He closed the distance against Vecorix before he took a swing at him with his gladius, which the Gallic man was easily able to deflect with his shield. Ronicus then attempted to use what he had learned in his legionnaire training, and thrust his shield forward in an attempt to batter away his opponents. It succeeded, and then Ronicus stabbed his own sword at the midsection of the barbarian, but Vecorix was able to parry the attack with his own blade.

Now aware of Ronicus' skill, Vecorix brought his own blade down in a curved arc at Ronicus, who was able to block the blow with his shield. He then stabbed forward with his blade, but once again Ronicus blocked the strike. Realizing it would take more than simple attack to defeat the former legionnaire, Vecorix brought his blade up high to strike at Ronicus from above. Ronicus raised his shield high to deflect the blow, but it was all a ploy. Now with his torso exposed, Vecorix kicked him in the stomach, which sent Ronicus reeling back in pain.

Ronicus once more thrust his blade forward in a desperate attempt to batter his way through the barbarian's defenses but to no avail. Vecorix simply used his own blade to parry the attack.

Vecorix then swung his blade low, aimed at Ronicus' legs. Ronicus brought his shield down low to block the attack, but was immediately smashed in the face by Vecorix's shield when he did so, sending him tumbling to the ground.

Vecorix brought his sword up high and then drove it down into the sand, but Ronicus was barely able to move out of the way in time. He then swung his blade down to the sand, but Ronicus was able to parry the blow with his own. Again and again the process was repeated, and Ronicus was beginning to become tired from repeatedly having to dodge and block the barbarian's strikes.

Realizing the position he was in, Ronicus grabbed a handful of sand and threw it into the face of Vecorix as he approached, temporarily distracting the Gallic man. He then stood up and buried his gladius into his gut, much to the delight of the crowd. Vecorix looked down at the blade protruding from his stomach, and then looked back up at Ronicus. Ronicus had a look of regret in his eyes, as he knew that he had to play dirty in order to win today. The barbarian sank to his knees before collapsing on the ground dead.

Ronicus retrieved his blade from the fallen gladiator and looked up at the crowd. They were roaring with delight at the thrill of the kill. He did not acknowledge them, but rather just walked towards the exit of the arena back to the slave's quarters.

He sat down on a bench with his blade and shield at his side. Burying his face into his hands, he just wanted to cry, but he could not.

The same guard who had announced that he would be fighting once more entered the room.

"The next fight will be, Bonica vs. Marmuk. Prepare yourselves to die the best way you see fit."

Ronicus looked up to see Bonica grab a sword and hand axe from the cache of weapons. She then turned her head to look at Ronicus, and sent a hateful glare his direction. He knew why too. They were still enemies as far as she was concerned, despite the fact that they were both slaves. Soon after they broke eye contact and he watched her and her opponent make their way out to the arena to the roar of the crowd.

XXXXXXXXXX

"I'm sorry!" Kimila yelled.

It had been a noble effort after all. Flavius Quentin had decreed that Kimila would be working in the kitchen of his mansion. It had turned out to be a big mistake. Despite Kimila's pleas that she had never cooked before in her life, he had made her do it anyway. According to him, women were only useful in the kitchen, and that all she had to do was follow the instructions of the other cooks and everything would be fine.

Oh how wrong he was.

The fire had started out small. But soon it spread to the other rooms of the house. Eventually it had completely engulfed his mansion, sending both patricians and slaves fleeing for their lives.

"You stupid worthless bitch!" Flavius screamed at her. "How could you do this to me!"

"I didn't mean to I swear!" Kimila pleaded.

Flavius was furious with her. And why wouldn't he be, she had just destroyed his mansion. He raised his hand and struck Kimila across the face, sending her tumbling to the ground.

Kimila's first instinct was to get up and punch him right back. But then cooler heads prevailed as she realized what would happen. If she were to strike her master his guards would no doubt kill her right then and there. Considering the fact she was defenseless, that prospect was not very appealing to her.

"I should kill you right here!" He yelled at her. "But I have a better idea. You're going to be taking a little trip to Tarentum."

"What's in Tarentum?" Kimila asked.

"Oh just a nice colosseum. I'm going to be selling you as a gladiator, and your little friend too."

The little friend that Flavius was referring to was none other than Sheko. While Kimila had been placed in the kitched, it had been Sheko's duty to please her master in the bedroom. She had refused to perform her "duties" from the start, which only enraged Flavius. That was when it got physical. Flavius had attempted to strike her, but Sheko not only blocked the attack, but hit him back. Why Flavius had decided not to kill her right there was a mystery to the woman, but one thing was for certain now. She would be heading to Tarentum with Kimila to become gladiators.


	8. Chapter 8

Authors Note: Sorry for the delay. Thanks to everyone who is reading this story. I never would have expected so much support for my KP/Rome fic. Special thanks go out to Comet Moon, Muzzlehatch, Mengsk, Mr. Wizard, CajunBear73, Some1outthere, RSfan, captainkodak1, Stubbs101, screaming phoenix, Trinovantes, Weary-Traveler, and Donteatacowman for reviewing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kim Possible.

XXXXXXXXXX

Six months.

It had been six long and arduous months since he had been sold into slavery. And they had not been kind to him at all. Ronicus had lost count of the number of battles that he had been forced to fight in. He continued to think to himself that he was lucky to be alive even now. It had taken a mixture of cunning, skill, and sheer luck to keep him alive throughout the many duels that he had fought against the other gladiators. He had the scars to prove how close he had come to death on a number of occasions. There was the gash on his stomach, right below the one from the bear's claws when he had went on the hunt with Kimila. There was the one that ran from his elbow to his forearm on his right arm when he had to fight against a man from Germania. And there was the most recent wound on his right cheek where a sword had slashed open his face. He would bear these scars for the rest of his life, which would be short unless he lived to see freedom again.

The life of a gladiator was a tough one, tougher than even the military. In the arena you had no one to count on but yourself. You had no backup of any kind, no friends, and no comrades. It was just you against the next desperate man. Outside of the arena however, there was an unspoken brotherhood between the fighters. Each of them shared the same fate as the other, and so they could bear no ill will against one another. There was however one certain female brunette who still harbored a grudge against Ronicus. But to the rest of them nothing that went on in the arena was personal, it was just a matter of survival. And each man wanted to survive as much as the next.

But perhaps the most unusual bond Ronicus had formed was with Wadi. The young Numidian was perhaps only fifteen years old, three years younger than him. Though Wadi was not a fighter, they had still managed to become quite close friends. They often spoke of their lives before their confinement to slavery. Ronicus had talked all about his life before and after joining the Roman legions. But he got the most excited when he told Wadi about Kimila. Despite only having known her well from the time of his captivity in Britannia from the time of being sold, he had quite a lot to say about her.

"Sounds like you really like this girl." Wadi told him.

"Well, how could I not? She's just so beautiful, smart, brave… just everything about her is so amazing."

"And you haven't seen her in six months?"

"Yup. Ever since that day in Rome. When I close my eyes I can still see the look on her face as I was being forced to walk away from her."

"That's rough."

"Yeah."

The two sat in silence for a moment, neither knowing what to say next about the topic. So Ronicus decided to change the subject.

"So how's life treating you with the meal serving?" He asked the young boy.

"I suppose it could be worse. I could be down there in the pits with you. No offense."

"None taken man. Do you know if you're going to have to start doing it when you're old enough?"

"Probably. Spurius hasn't said anything yet, but I assume that when I'm old enough to make a profit out of, he won't have any reservations of sending me in."

"If you want Wadi, I could help you train when we have some free time."

"Sure. Anything that will help me survive once I finally do get in there."

Ronicus began teaching Wadi the basic techniques with a sword. How to cut, how to thrust, how to parry, and so forth. It was a bit clumsy at first, but nothing less could be expected from someone who had never handled a sword before. That was when they heard the crowd roar from outside of the slaves chambers.

Wadi looked up from the sparring match as he heard the noise.

"What was that?" He asked Ronicus.

"Sounds like someone won. My money's on Bonica."

"You don't have any money and you know it." Wadi laughed.

"Oh yeah. Good point. But still, that girl is a madwoman in the arena. I'm glad I've never had to face her before."

"Well I hear someone coming, let's go see who it is."

The two teens walked to around ten feet away from the door leading out into the arena. Sure enough, it was Bonica who emerged, bloody and victorious. Her entire right arm was covered in blood, but whether it was hers or her opponents they could not say. One thing was for certain though, she was a fierce fighter who did not mind the sight of blood.

"What are you looking at Roman?" She said harshly to Ronicus.

"Nothing. Just wanted to see who won."

"Pfft." She scoffed. "Isn't it obvious that it would be me? I'm the best damn fighter in this whole arena."

"I don't know about that Bonica." Ronicus said. "There are a few other undefeated warriors here too, including myself."

"What, do you actually think you can beat me? Puh-lease."

"I never said that. I'm just saying you shouldn't be so cocky. It's going to get you killed one of these days."

"Don't worry about me. Soon enough I'll win my way to freedom, then return to Britannia to lead a revolution against your Roman friends." She smiled wickedly.

"I wouldn't exactly call them my friends after what they did to me…"

"And I don't care, so shut up."

Ronicus didn't say another word as Bonica forced her way past him, making sure that she bumped into him along the way. He couldn't understand why she couldn't just let the past go. After all, they were both just soldiers fighting on opposite sides in a war. Like the gladiatorial games it was nothing personal, just business. And now since they ended up under the same circumstances, wouldn't it just be easier for her to accept him as a fellow slave? That's what he figured at least.

Ronicus resumed his training with Wadi. He didn't know how much longer he would be alive, but as long as he did live he would try to teach the young Numidian all he knew so that he could live too.

XXXXXXXXXX

It had been almost half a year since Kimila and Sheko had been sold by Flavius to a gladiatorial slave master in the city of Tarentum. Since then she had been in her fair share of bouts, as had Sheko. And throughout it all, they had both come out alive. Scratched, bloodied, and bruised, but alive none the less. It was amazing to see the strange twists and turns that her life had taken the past few months. She had once been the daughter of the King of Britannia. She had once had it all. Then came the Romans. They had taken everything from her. Her family, her friends, her home. But they did bring one thing with them that had been a boon for her, Ronicus.

And then they had taken him away from her too. It seemed that no matter what she did, or where she went, the Romans were always ready to take what she cherished most. Now they had taken her dignity. She was forced to become first a house slave, and now a gladiator. It sickened her that she was forced to take the lives of other men and women who were in the same situation as her. But what could she do? She refused to die. She was determined to get out of this with her life and find the only part of her life that she had left… him. She didn't know how she would do it, but she would reunite with him. With her family dead and her home in the hands of the Romans, he was really all she had to look forward to.

When she had first been put in the slaves chambers underneath the arena, she scrambled to find weapons and armor that would suit her. The first thing she spotted was a long spear, not unlike the one she wielded back in Britannia. Sure it wasn't as nice looking as her own ceremonial spear, but it would just have to do. The second item was a bronze breast plate that would cover up and protect all of her torso from harm. This was something she was unused to, as she would normally fight without any kind of armor. But here she had to make use of everything she could in order to survive. The final item was a masked helmet made of iron. It covered up her face completely without obstructing her vision, which was essential when fighting against an opponent. Since she had refused to give out her name when she arrived and because of the mask she wore, the announcers at the arena had dubbed her "The Masked Warrior".

That had been many months ago. Many battles and many kills later here she sat, waiting for the next time the guard would call her name. Her last battle had been a few days ago so she knew that her time would be coming soon. She just never expected it to be next.

"Masked Warrior." The guard said as he entered the room.

Kimila looked up and gazed into the eyes of the man who would announce her fate.

"You will be facing Sheko. Prepare yourselves."

Sheko… one of the other only undefeated fighters in the Tarentum arena. She was a truly frightening warrior to behold on the battlefield. She fought with a sword and shield like she had back before she was a slave, and she was very good at what she did.

"I've been waiting a lifetime for this moment, princess." Sheko said emotionlessly as she stared into the eyes of Kimila.

If Sheko had had it her way she would have killed Kimila the moment she was presented with a weapon. But there were strict rules about the slaves fighting with each other when they were not in front of an audience. Simply put, if you died without being out in the arena, the slave master would not make any money off of you. And if he didn't make money he would be a very unhappy man. So he had told the newly bought slaves that if one killed the other, the murderer would be instantly fed to the lions out in the arena. And this was a prospect that did not sound very appealing to Sheko.

"You never could beat me back in our sparring matches in Britannia, Sheko. What makes you think you can beat me now?"

Sheko didn't respond, but rather stood up and began walking towards the door that led into the arena.

Kimila immediately stood up and followed her. As she neared the door she could hear the announcer speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen! It is my pleasure to introduce to you two undefeated warriors from the fabled island of Britannia. Please allow me to introduce to you Sheko of Britannia, and The Masked Warrior!"

The crowd cheered in anticipation of two undefeated gladiators facing off against each other. The way they figured it, something had to give. One of the two warriors would die if they had anything to say about it. And sometimes they did. When a warrior was down and out of the fight but not dead, the winning gladiator would play to the crowd and either let the fallen warrior live or die depending on what the crowd was cheering for. And in this particular bout, they wanted one to die.

The two ladies walked forward and out onto the sandy arena floor, as they looked around at the audience. They had seen them many times before, but sometimes it still struck Kimila just how many people there were, and just how enormous the structure was. She never could have imagined that man could build structures so big. But here it was, and there were other arenas just like it dotted all up and down Italia.

The two warriors looked at each other heatedly as they circled each other, each trying to outthink the other and anticipate what they would do first. Sheko decided to strike first.

She lunged at Kimila with her blade, which was battered away by the tip of her spear. She followed up the attack by slashing away at Kimila's neck, but she brought the butt of her spear up to once more deflect the attack.

Sheko then spun around clockwise to try and catch Kimila off guard with an attack on her right side, but the red-head was once more able to bring her spear up just in time to block the blow.

Seeing that she was getting no where by being on the defensive, Kimila decided to attack. She thrust her spear at the midsection of her opponent which was deflected by Sheko's round wooden shield. In the same motion Kimila brought the butt of her spear up to try to whack Sheko on the side of the head, but the pale-skinned woman was able to duck under the attack.

Regaining her balance, Kimila launched another attack with her spear aimed at Sheko's abdomen. But once more she was able to deflect the attack with her shield, sending Kimila back once more.

Sheko immediately went on the offensive once more as she slashed and cut away at Kimila with frightening speed. Every blow forced Kimila backwards as she desperately raised her spear against every attack that Sheko could muster against her. One of the attacks managed to penetrate Kimila's defenses and slashed her across the right shoulder.

She looked down at her shoulder before looked back up at Sheko, who had a smug grin on her face. Now enraged, Kimila gripped her spear tightly and once more ran at her opponent.

Kimila held her spear like a staff and rained down a flurry of blows upon her enemy, sending her back with every strike. Sheko was forced to defend herself with both her sword and her shield as Kimila sent blow after blow down on her with both the tip and butt of her spear. Finally, she held her spear in a one-handed overhand grip and sent the attack straight towards Sheko's heart.

But Sheko was apparently ready for such a strike, as she allowed the attack to not only pass through her guard, but also underneath her armpit. She then tightened her arm, pinning the spear between her arm and the rest of her body. Sheko ripped the spear out of Kimila's hands, and threw it away in the sands of the arena.

Now weaponless, Kimila was not in a good position. Sheko once more went on the offensive, but was shocked when her sword was kicked out of her hands by Kimila.

"So, looks like we're doing this weaponless." Sheko smiled as she circled her opponent.

"Looks like it." Kimila responded.

Always one to make the first move, Sheko lunged at Kimila who stood there and took the attack. Sheko's right fist was blocked by Kimila, but her left managed to get through her defenses and smash her in the cheek. Kimila reeled back from the sudden impact, now aware that her opponent was just as dangerous without any weapons.

Sheko then delivered a roundhouse kick against her red-haired opponent, but Kimila managed to grab hold of her leg and bring down her elbow on the vulnerable knee joint of Sheko. Both females fell to the ground with the blow, with Sheko obviously feeling more pain than the one who delivered the attack.

As they stood up Kimila noticed a limp in her opponent, and would have to make sure to take advantage of it somehow. She decided to target that injured leg in her next attack, and ran at Sheko preparing to send a well-placed kick at the knee. But Sheko was obviously feigning the injury, and dropped to her back and monkey flipped Kimila over her, sending her crashing unceremoniously to the sandy floor. But in a fortuitous twist, she had landed right next to her fallen spear, which Sheko apparently had not noticed yet.

Sheko got up and ran at Kimila who was laying on her stomach in pain. But it was all a ploy, for as she was about to cave Kimila's skull in with her foot, the red-head immediately sat up and thrust her spear upward into the gut of Sheko.

Sheko doubled over, her eyes wide in both shock and horror as she realized what had just happened. She looked over at Kimila who had a look of utter hatred upon her face as she twisted the spear around inside of Sheko. The pale woman collapsed to the ground where she lay for a few moments before her eyes closed for the last time.

Kimila stood up to the roar of the crowd and realized that she had won. A slight smile appeared on her face. Normally she would abhor killing in an arena like this, but she had not just faced any opponent. She had certainly not faced an innocent opponent either. She had faced one of the people who had rebelled against her father and the rest of Britannia. She had killed someone who was directly responsible for the attack on her village. For Kimila, this was vengeance.

"Mother… father." She whispered. "I hope that I have honored you both by what I have done today."

With that, Kimila made her way towards the exit and back to the slaves chambers. Now she would be able to rest her weary body and tend to her wounds. But her future still did not look very bright. She was still alone and still a slave despite the justice she had done today.


End file.
